


Looking for a Happy Ending

by Firefly_Ca



Series: Happy Ending AU [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dark, Bullying, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Internalized Homophobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Abuse, Non Consensual, Physical Abuse, Self-Medicating, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, looks like incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firefly_Ca/pseuds/Firefly_Ca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Blaine Anderson hasn't been Blaine Anderson for 8 years. He doesn't remember much about his old family and his life before he moved in with the man he calls his father. Together they move from town to town, always drifting before Blaine can get too familiar with his surroundings. Then one day they end up in Lima, Ohio, and Blaine finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew. READ THE WARNINGS AND AUTHOR NOTE. SERIOUSLY. JUST READ THEM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Adding old work to my AO3 account.
> 
> This story is based on several highly-publicized real-life stories about childhood abduction victims like Natascha Kampusch, Shawn Hornbeck, Elizabeth Smart, etc. In particular it is largely inspired by a boy named Steve Stayner, whose story I found so upsetting after I learned of it, I couldn't get it out of my mind. Ultimately I wrote this entire story as a way to silently rage against the gross and disgusting ways I see the media and people in general treat kids in these situations. It's something I feel society should be able to work around and move beyond, but every time something like this surfaces on the news, it's the same parade of "experts" and talking heads, buying into backwards ideas and playing up rape culture in a way that legitimizes ugly stereotypes in the average person's mind. The annoying thing is, if you actually put yourself in the kid's shoes for even a second, all the mystery and seemingly inexplicable behaviour isn't so strange anymore. 
> 
> This story (and it's sequel) happened when I tried to do that: to write about what a long-term abduction would do to a kid's perception of himself and the world around him. It's also my attempt at giving a kid like this (eventually) a happy ending. Originally it was almost written as original fic, but since it's based so heavily on the lives of real people, I felt very awkward about the idea of writing and publishing something for profit when I wasn't writing about my own experiences. So fic it became!

**July 13, 2002**  
  
 _It starts with a fight over a stupid game in the mall.  
  
"Dad, please!" Blaine begs as he pulls back on his father's hand, trying to drag him back to the claw machine. "I just want to get the yellow elephant Dad. I promise not to waste your money. I'll get it on the first try, Dad. I'm really good!"  
  
Dad's voice is tired and irritated as he continues to pull Blaine along, past the other shoppers who by now are starting to stare.  
  
"Blaine, for the last time we are going to be late for Connor's party if you keep carrying on this way. Hurry up!"  
  
This is so grossly unfair that Blaine can hardly stand it. His life is not going to be the same without the yellow elephant in it, and no one even cares. He lets out a tremulous wail, just to be sure his father knows how terrible he's being.  
  
His father spins round to face him and bends over so they are eye level as he hisses,  
  
"Young man that is _ enough _. You are far too old to acting like a two-year-old and if you want to prove to me that you're big enough to handle that bike you've been asking about, you'd better smarten up. Do you understand?"  
  
Blaine is a little stunned, because his dad _ never _loses his patience or gets mad at him. The tears dry on his cheeks as he nods his head slowly.  
  
"Fine," His dad says, nodding brusquely before he straightens out and turns around, heading to the toy store and Connor's present. "Let's get going."  
  
Soon his dad is talking to the salesman about whether the stuff in the chemistry set is edible while Blaine wanders away to go look at the remote-controlled helicopters. He feels a hand reach out and lightly touch his shoulder. Blaine looks up to see a man he's never seen before, smiling at him like he knows him.  
  
"Hello Blaine," he says. "I hear you like elephants."  
  
Blaine wrinkles his nose at him, because he's not supposed to talk to strangers. He says nothing. The man laughs, quietly.  
  
"Your dad was telling me," he says, pointing in his father's direction. Blaine relaxes a little. If the man is one of Dad's friends, then it's okay to talk to him.  
  
"I love the yellow elephant." He admits, wistfully. "I really need to have it."  
  
"Tell you what," The man says. "Why don't I tell your dad where you'll be and I'll take you to get your elephant."  
  
Blaine shakes his head.  
  
"I can't," he says. "I have to go to Connor's birthday party. We're late already."  
  
The man nods, solemnly.  
  
"Do you know where Connor lives?" he asks.  
  
"Down the road," Blaine says. "You can see his house from here."  
  
The man's face lights up.  
  
"Perfect!" He says. "Your dad told me how much you wanted the elephant, and he said that if you needed it so badly, all you had to do was go back to the claw machine and ask me for it. So while the kids are all playing at Connor's, why don't you tell someone you're going to the bathroom, and then sneak out and walk back here? I'll meet you at the game and together we'll get your toy. Your dad said I could drive you back to Connor's after so you don't miss cake."  
  
Something about this sounds a little off to Blaine.  
  
"If I'm allowed to come back here, why do I have to sneak out?"  
  
The man ruffles his hair.  
  
"It's a little rude to sneak away in the middle of someone's birthday party, sport," he says. "Your dad said it was okay this once because someone could take your elephant while you're away, but it's still not very polite. We don't want Connor to get his feelings hurt, do we?"  
  
***  
  
Blaine waits until everyone is playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. He asks Connor's mom where the bathroom is and she takes him to it before heading back to supervise. The bathroom is right next to the back door.   
  
The man is waiting by the elephant when Blaine comes back, a stack of money in his hands.  
  
"Blaine!" He says, grabbing the boy in a one-shouldered hug. "You made it!"  
  
He hands Blaine the first dollar bill.  
  
"Let's get you an elephant."  
  
Blaine does not win the elephant on the first try. It takes them almost ten dollars before the little elephant is successfully secured by the claw and dropped into the bin, but the man, Tom, is laughing and holding his hands over Blaine's to help him drop the claw at the exact right second, so he doesn't seem to mind it too much.  
  
"That was sure fun, wasn't it?" Tom says as he leads Blaine out into the parking lot towards a car with a backseat Blaine has to crawl into.  
  
"Yeah!" Blaine agrees, happily. "Thanks Tom!"  
  
"Any time," Tom says, as they pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. But something is wrong.  
  
"Connor's house is the other way," Blaine says, feeling nervous again. Tom is looking at him really hard in the mirror and the look on his face is scary in a way Blaine can't quite figure out, but the voice is bright enough when Tom says,  
  
"Got a call from Connor's mom while you were winning the toy. You kids are going swimming! I told her we'd meet up with them at the pool."  
  
"I don't have my swimsuit," Blaine says, horrified because if he doesn't get to go swimming with his friends it will be the worst thing that has ever happened to him.  
  
"Your dad is going to bring it and meet us there," Tom promises, so Blaine settles back into his seat and snuggles happily with the elephant.  
  
They drive for a long, long time and by the time that they stop Blaine is so tired he's forgotten all about swimming.  
  
***  
  
"Can I go home yet, Tom?"  
  
"Not yet, buddy. Your mom and dad want you to stay with me a few more days."  
  
Blaine has been at Tom's home for a week. It's not very much fun anymore. Tom has a lot of cool stuff to do there, lots of video games and colouring books and toys, but everything is lonely and too quiet. It's a little house far away from the road and with no neighbours anywhere. Tom says that sometimes it gets a little boring with no one there, which is why he has so much cool stuff lying around. So he has something to do.  
  
"It's a lot more fun when there's a friend around," he adds, smiling at Blaine.  
  
But Blaine is getting tired of all the quiet. Tom is great, but sort of weird too. He likes tickle fights a lot, and so does Blaine, but sometimes Tom grabs in strange places by accident and it makes Blaine feel creepy. He also keeps all the doors and windows locked tight with all the shades drawn so they don't get robbed, but Blaine never sees any keys anywhere, and nothing unlocks from the inside. It seems stupid to Blaine to build a house you can get _ into _but not_ out of _.  
  
"I really think I need to go," he finally says to Tom one evening. "I like you a lot, but my mom and dad are probably sad because they miss me by now."  
  
"Oh buddy," Tom says, suddenly looking very sad in a way that makes Blaine's heart skip beats. He's going to hear something scary, and he knows it, he just doesn't know what. Tom pulls him onto his lap.  
  
"I didn't want to have to tell you this so soon," he says, petting Blaine's head a little as he talks. "But do you remember the fight you were having with your dad about Horton?"  
  
"My elephant?" Blaine says, confused about what that has to do with anything.  
  
"Your parents have been very disappointed in you lately Blaine," Tom says. "They told me that you were a rude, ungrateful, bad little boy. They were going to give you away, but decided that to be fair you should get one more chance to listen to them and prove that you were good enough. Horton was a test for you, Blaine."  
  
Blaine is so, so scared. He feels his entire body shake as he listens to Tom speak. This isn't fair. If you're taking a test, people should tell you first.  
  
"I didn't want to do it, Blaine," Tom is saying. "But your parents told me that if I didn't help, they'd just get a stranger to do it for them, and I didn't want you to end up with a stranger. What if they didn't want you either? What would happen to you then?"  
  
"What was the test?" Blaine asks, feeling his throat close up a little.  
  
"You were supposed to leave Horton behind," Tom says, wiping away the tears that Blaine hadn't even noticed falling down his cheeks. "But you didn't. You decided that a toy was more important than your parents, Blaine. So they decided that they had other things more important than you. They don't want you anymore. I'm so sorry."  
  
Blaine is sobbing loudly now. He's never been so scared, so alone as he is right now. He never knew his heart could hurt as much as it's hurting right now. Tom grabs him up and holds him in a tight hug, muttering soothing sounds and rubbing his hand in slow careful circles, low on his back.  
  
"It's okay, Blaine," he says. "It's okay. It's sad for now, but you're so lucky I'm here. Most people don't want a kid whose parents don't love them anymore, and they're alone forever. But I'll look after you Blaine. I'll be your new dad. All you have to do is do what I tell you and I'll never let you be alone. I'll always love you, okay? You don't need your old family anymore. I'm right here."  
  
He kisses Blaine lightly on the side of the neck and something about the way it feels makes Blaine's insides turn to ice. He wants to get up and run as far away as he can, but this house has been built to get into and not out of. And besides, Tom is all there is now. If Blaine doesn't want to be alone forever, he'll have to get used to staying with the only person who is kind enough to keep him._  
  
***  
 **October 4, 2010**  
  
Blaine is so used to hearing his father's speech every time he sits in the principal's office at a new school, he can almost recite it with him. On average, he changes schools 2 times a year. He worked it out one time as they were driving out of yet another state, Dad looking surly as he muttered to himself about people being too damn nosy for their own good. It's pretty much the way they always leave a town or state, only slightly louder because it was suddenly decided that they needed to leave 3 weeks ahead of schedule. Dad's always been pretty paranoid about people taking too much interest in Blaine.  
  
"People find out that I'm not your legal guardian and we're both screwed," Dad says whenever they settle into a new place. "They'd throw my ass in jail and yours into foster care. God knows how that would go for you. Do you know what happens to the kids no one likes in foster care, Blaine?"  
  
Blaine is always tempted to say, "It can't be any worse than what happens with you" but he never does. As awful as his father is, he's really all Blaine's got, and it's not like he makes Blaine live in poverty or anything. Blaine always gets whatever he wants from Dad. Sometimes he doesn't even have to ask first. Kids at school are always jealous of him and, okay, maybe he's a little spoiled, but Blaine has never been too concerned about friends. He doesn't care what other people think about him.   
  
"For God's sake, Blaine, pull your shirt down," Dad snaps.  
  
Blaine glances down and quickly tugs the sleeve back over his wrist, hiding the bruises just as the principal walks in. Dad stands up and shakes his hand warmly. Blaine pretends not to notice when it is extended in turn towards himself, instead smiling faintly and muttering a little, "Hi." He can feel Dad stiffen in disapproval next to him, but the principal, Figgins according to the name plate on the desk, doesn't seem to notice or care.  
  
"Mr. Brenner, it's wonderful to meet you," he says with a pronounced Indian accent. "And this must be Francis."  
  
"It's Blaine," Blaine says, unable to stop the scowl that settles on his features.  
  
Dad laughs good-naturedly. "Apparently only girls are called Francis, so he's going through a phase where he insists on going by his middle name."  
  
"Oh, but Francis," Figgins looks a little scandalized as he sits heavily in his seat behind the desk. "You should never be ashamed of your name. It's part of who you  _are_. I remember when I was a boy I had the same name as another boy in my class who used to wet his pants! Oh, how I  _begged_  my mother to let me change my name to escape the mockery of the other students, but she just told me 'Jeevan, you must carry your name with  _pride_. It is a sign of respect for the ones who named you."  
  
Blaine looks back at the name plate in confusion.  
  
"Your name is Paul," he says.  
  
Principal Figgins shrugs.   
  
"I converted," he says. "And none of my pastors could pronounce my name. There was nothing else I could do."  
  
Figgins looks down to Blaine's rather stuffed file on his desk and checks his notes.  
  
"Now Francis," he says, and Blaine grits his teeth. "I see here that you have some behavioural problems. That's disappointing."  
  
"We move around a lot," Dad speaks up, and Blaine thinks,  _Here we go_. "Blaine's never fully socialized properly. He has trouble making friends. Sometimes he doesn't make very good decisions."  
  
"Well that's putting it a little mildly," Figgins says as he reads his notes and makes tsking noises. "Francis, it says here that you have been caught  _drinking_  on  _school property_. Drinking  _alcohol_. That certainly will not be permitted at McKinley High."  
  
"He won't be doing any of that," Dad assures, even though he looks a little like he wants to laugh instead. "Blaine has been doing much better with his behaviour lately, though sometimes he still has issues being completely honest. He likes to make up stories, cause scenes. Standard rebellious teenager stuff."  
  
Figgins shakes his head and looks at Blaine sadly.  
  
"That really is too bad. Maybe Francis would do better if he got involved with the student body right away, so he didn't feel the need to resort to lies to impress the other children. What are your feelings about show choir, Francis? Maybe you'd like to join the New Directions!"  
  
"The  _what_?" Blaine asks, because he can't have heard that correctly.  
  
"The New Directions," Figgins repeats, smilingly. "They are our school glee club. I don't know how good they are exactly, but they win enough competitions to keep me from shutting them down and redistributing their funding. They seem to attract a rather large cross-section of social misfits and deviants, so that could be fun for you. Does that seem like the sort of thing you could be interested in?"  
  
"Show choir or the large cross-section of social misfits and deviants?" Blaine asks.  
  
"Oh whichever you like," Figgins says, earnestly. "Just so long as we can get you  _connected_."  
  
"Can I go see my locker now?" Blaine finally asks, after a long pause where he tries to find an appropriate response for the insane man in front of him and comes up with nothing.  
  
Blaine is always careful to adjust his scholastic performance with each new school he goes to. He strives to be in the middle of the class; not too smart, not too stupid. He prefers to be comfortably invisible because he finds life is easier when you're average. He's been attending McKinley for all of half an hour and already he has the sneaking suspicion that average here will be a new low for him.  
  
***  
  
The girl who shows him to his locker is wearing a red and white cheerleading uniform. She walks slowly, texting and laughing as she ambles down the hallways. She hasn't said a single word to him, or even looked his direction. He could be attacked by mutant mosquito carnivores and he doubts she would notice.  
  
It doesn't take long before she stops walking entirely, leaning against a row of lockers as she texts at lightning speed. Blaine stands and watches her for almost three minutes before he finally gives up and asks,  
  
"So... is one of these lockers mine?"  
  
The look he has levelled at him is one of utter disgust.  
  
"Look freak," the girl says, putting a hand on her hips. "Do you have any idea who I am? I am a  _Cheerio_ , alright? And maybe I  _am_  just a freshman who is being forced to do this by Coach before I earn the right to touch a pompom but you know what I've  _already earned_? This uniform. And the right not to be sexually harassed by little loser perve balls like you.  _God_."  
  
"You've got to be kidding me," Blaine says, because this is a bit much. Even from a cheerleader.  
  
"Oh, so now you're questioning me?" The girl demands and, seriously?  
  
He's trying to decide whether he should just give up and skip class now or wander the halls until a teacher notices and takes pity on him when he hears a high laugh from behind him.   
  
"It's cute how you pretend the Cheerios probation period lasts longer than two weeks," says a voice as high as the laugh. "You and I both know that if you were going to get anywhere near a cheering routine it would have happened by now. Face it, Charity. You're just Sue Sylvester's water boy. You're nothing."  
  
The voice belongs to a boy who seems to have been coming out of one of the bathrooms. Blaine has no idea what he was doing in there – he's holding a large plastic bag, and his hair is slightly damp – but the kid  _oozes_  confidence, and the smirk he's directing to the girl – Charity – is scathing.  
  
Charity is fuming.  
  
"I'm still worth more at this school than you'll ever be," she snaps. "You stupid gay freak. Go sing a show tune, Hummel."  
  
The boy laughs again.  
  
"You may rank higher than me on the social ladder at this school," he says. "But with the woman with the power to make you do herkies until you black out? She likes me more than you. And that's  _after_  I bailed on her squad."  
  
Charity stares at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before giving up. She turns and stalks away, muttering "Stupid _fag_ " under her breath as she haughtily brushes past. Hummel bristles for a moment, eyes clouding over in anger before he collects himself, standing up even straighter than before. His smile is only a little forced when he says.  
  
"Sometimes the only way to deal with the cheerleaders here is to be just as bitchy as they are. Not that that's hard for me. I'm sort of a bitch anyhow. So my friends tell me. And my dad sometimes when we're fighting about fashion allowances. Born bitchy, that's me! In a nutshell. Oh God. I'm rambling," He stops abruptly, and Blaine wonders if the self-assurance was all an act as a faint blush spreads across the boy's cheeks and he awkwardly sticks his hand out in front of him.  
  
"I'm Kurt. Hummel. It's nice to meet you."  
  
Blaine looks at Kurt's hand but doesn't move his own away from his bag strap.  
  
"Um," he says, taking a small step backwards. "Hi. It's nice to meet you, too. Call me Blaine."  
  
Kurt gets that look on his face again and in an instant the attitude comes rushing back.  
  
"You know," he says icily. "Contrary to what everyone in this backwater town thinks, you can't actually  _catch gay_."  
  
He looks down at Blaine like he's staring at a week-old dead rat and Blaine has never felt so  _small_  as Kurt continues,  
  
"I mean, maybe if I sodomized you or, I don't know, spit in your drink? Maybe then you should go see the doctor to get inoculated or whatever it is you homophobes think you need to do after getting too close to a queer, but just shaking hands? Get over yourself."  
  
He's started stalking off down the hall before Blaine startles into action again.  
  
"Wait!" He says, a little loudly as he rushes after him. "No, no I didn't mean it like that! Kurt, I'm sorry!"  
  
Kurt slows to a stop and turns as Blaine catches up.  
  
"Shit, I'm sorry," Blaine says, not so much breathless as he is mortified. "I didn't even think about how you'd take that. I mean, with what she said and everything. I don't care if you're gay, I swear."  
  
Kurt relaxes incrementally and looks a little chagrined as he says,   
  
"Well, maybe I jumped to unfair conclusions."  
  
He lifts up the plastic bag.  
  
"I haven't been having a very good day."  
  
There's an awkward pause as Blaine wonders what he's talking about before Kurt finally says,  
  
"So...they don't shake hands where you come from?"  
  
"Not this week," Blaine says a little bitterly. He likes Kurt. There's something about how expressive his face is and how all that animation makes everything around him fade to uninspired grey. Something about how he isn't afraid to face off a cheerleader to defend someone he's never met but will prattle on nervously when he has to make small talk. Whatever it is, it makes it hard to think properly when he's looking at Kurt face-to-face, and Blaine's thoughts are muddled and uncensored. His actions too, he realizes a split second too late.  
  
"Oh my God, what happened?" Kurt gasps as he looks down at Blaine's extended and uncovered hand.  
  
Blaine jerks it back and quickly slides it back inside his conveniently long sleeves, shrugging. Fortunately he hasn't completely lost his mind around this guy, because he doesn't do anything as reckless as telling the truth. Somehow he recognises that, "My dad gets scared when he thinks I'm planning on running away and his paranoid streak is a vicious one" won't go over well with his audience.  
  
"My dad dropped a box of books onto my hand while we were unpacking this weekend," he says. "It's, uh, it's worse than it looks, but I'm not ready to face people with a firm handshake yet."  
  
"Oh," Kurt says, his hand reaching forward a little anyhow, and for a second Blaine wonders if Kurt is planning on patting his arm instead, like he's a dog instead of a person. But Kurt comes to an awkward and halting stop before lowering his hand back to his side.  
  
"So," he finally manages. "You're new then? Where's your next class? You seem to have lost your good will ambassador."  
  
"Is that what she was?" Blaine asks.  
  
"It's like a fancy way of saying self-centered cow," Kurt explains. "At least, that's what it means at this school."  
  
"I don't know where I'm supposed to be right now," Blaine admits. "She didn't even tell me where my locker was."  
  
"Well I'm not just here for my good looks," Kurt says, hesitating and blushing a little before he says, "What's your locker number? I can help you find it."  
  
Blaine passes over the paper with his locker information and tentative schedule on it. Kurt studies it for a moment before his face lights up a little.  
  
"You're right next to me! I have to drop off my things so I'll take you there right now."   
  
He sounds happy enough at the development, and Blaine wants to know if Kurt is this excited at the idea of spending time with all the new students he encounters. He sort of hopes not. He's not ready to call Kurt his BFF and exchange friendship bracelets or anything, listening to Kurt chatter on and on is nice in a way he can't quite put his finger on.   
  
As they walk towards the locker, Kurt offers advice on which options are the best to take, which teachers like a kiss ass and which ones don't, which cliques to avoid.   
  
"I won't be offended if you don't look twice at me when there are people around," he says, fidgeting with Blaine's papers. "I'm not the least popular person here, but talking to me when you're new is a little bit like social suicide."  
  
"Is it because you wash your hair in the bathrooms in the middle of the day?" Blaine asks, resisting the urge to nudge Kurt's shoulder as he says it. "Because that's kind of weird."  
  
"Ha ha," Kurt says, flatly. "No, the bathroom thing is just one of the many crosses the unpopular students have to bear at this high school. McKinley is infamous for its slushie warfare."  
  
Kurt opens the plastic bag he's been carrying for Blaine to look inside. There are some clothes inside that look like they could be high-end, but it's hard to tell for sure thanks to the sticky vibrant blue splash stains they are covered in.  
  
"They dump slushies on people? And no one stops them?" Great. Apparently Blaine has been enrolled in a clown school.  
  
Kurt shrugs.  
  
"It is what it is," he says, as he leads Blaine to his locker before going to open one a few spaces down. "Try to be one of the cool kids, Blaine. That hair of yours is a little unruly. If it ever gets slushied I'm worried it may mutate into corn syrup-based dread locks, and none of us would want that, believe me."  
  
"What if I can't swing it as a cool kid?" Blaine asks. "Am I allowed to talk to you then?"  
  
"Blaine, if you can't make it as a cool kid, I will personally invite you to join the rest of the lost causes in glee club."  
  
"You're in the glee club?" Blaine asks, remembering what Figgins said and wondering if by "social deviants" he meant "gay" or possibly just "not popular". "Thanks for the invitation Kurt, but I think I'll pass. I've never sung in front of an audience before in my life."  
  
Kurt waves his hand dismissively.  
  
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he says. "No actually cares if you can sing in show choir so long as there's a strong soloist to cover your mistakes. But I didn't actually invite you yet. There is a strict protocol for joining New Directions, Blaine. You're only in if you are the lamest person in school or the coolest. The cool kids can handle the hit to their social status, and the rest of us never rated in the first place."  
  
"I see," Blaine says, as he silently wonders how talking to someone he's just met could possibly be so  _easy_. "Well, how will I know if suddenly qualify for your super exclusive extracurricular?"  
  
"We'll let you know," Kurt says with a knowing smile. "There's a giant bat signal attached to the roof of the school, only it's a music note instead of a bat, and it'll start blinking your name in Morse code. We don't do things by halves in glee club."

***

He's been at the school for a day and a half when a big hulking kid in a letterman jacket catches sight of him talking to Kurt by their lockers when he starts laughing uproariously, smacking his equally hulking friend in the side and loudly shouting,  
  
"Check it out, Karofsky: Hummel's got himself a  _girlfriend_!"  
  
He makes a frankly horrifying attempt at skipping as he moves his way towards them, slamming a meaty paw on each of their shoulders before continuing,  
  
"So spill, Kurtsie. Where did you find a kid hard up enough to get a hardon for your ugly gay mug?"  
  
"Oh my God," Kurt mutters, trying very hard not to look like he wants to die. He doesn't quite pull it off. He flashes an apologetic smile in Blaine's direction before saying in that same imperious voice Blaine heard him use on the cheerleader the first day, "Wow, that was really clever word play, Azimio. No really, I don't know why everyone says jocks are stupid. You get a bad rap."  
  
"Are you implying that because I'm of colour I have criminal tendencies, Hummel?" Azimio asks, drawing himself up to even greater height. Blaine really wishes he was somewhere else, but the other guy - Karofsky - stops his friend before he beats them up to defend the honour of African Americans by getting him back to the task at hand: beating them up for no discernable reason at all.  
  
"Why are you hanging around the fairy, new kid? Hasn't anyone ever told you that once you're doused with Sparkle Magic it doesn't come off? You can't cure that shit, no matter what your straight camp says."  
  
"Maybe he's already infected," Azimio suggests, sounding a little like he thinks he's in an action movie, possibly in the Samuel L. Jackson role. Blaine gets a disconcerting mental image of a headshot that results in an eruption of rainbow sparkles, which just isn't right.  
  
"Drop it, Karofsky." Kurt says loudly, before turning to Blaine and saying in a quieter, more irritated tone. "Just ignore them Blaine."   
  
He grabs his books and slams his locker shut, making a move like he's going to make a break for it and head to his next class, but Azimio and Karofsky crowd in on him before he can get too far, forcing him back against the lockers.  
  
"I don't think so, Hummel," Azimio says. "You see, David and me, we're like scholars. We want to learn all about this great world around us. I think it would be educational to see the mating habits of the Ohio Gay, one of nature's most endangered species."  
  
"Endangered?" Blaine echoes.  
  
"Well, they don't last very long  _here_ ," Karofsky says, and somehow he sounds scarier than Azimio when he says it. Like, they're both threatening the exact same things, but something about the way Karofsky glowers at Kurt makes Blaine feel like he thinks about beating gay people up a lot in his spare time. Azimio just wants to push around a few losers, but Karofsky wants to attack Kurt because he can't even stomach the  _idea_  of him.  
  
Kurt seems to have picked up on this too, because he's looking straight at Karofsky and Blaine realizes that he's going an unsettling shade of white. The air is thick with tension, and everyone has noticed except for the big idiot who started it in the first place.  
  
"Don't let us interrupt," Azimio is saying. "Work your sparkle magic on him, Hummel. How does it start? Do you sing him a girl song? Because I've noticed you like doing that anyhow."  
  
"That's a good point," Dave says. "Hey new kid, if you're going to be gay with Hummel, could you do us a favour and join their stupid little singing club right off the bat? Making the slushie rounds is always easier when we can find all the queers in one room with limited escape routes."  
  
"Oh hey, there you are Kurt," A new voice suddenly is elbowing its way into the conversation, and Blaine looks over to see a tall guy with blonde surfer hair and an easy-going expression ambling his way over. "Did you get me those notes for Spanish class yet? No hurry or anything, but um...I think I failed the test today, so if you  _could_  hurry that would pretty much be awesome."  
  
He slows to a stop in front of the group, looking back and forth between Kurt and the two jocks.  
  
"Oh," he says, so innocently Blaine almost believes it when he says. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I can just, you know, wait here until you guys are done saying whatever it is you were saying. I have time."  
  
No matter how broad the mysterious new shoulders are, Blaine doesn't think that the guy would be a match for the two small elephants who are preparing to step on Kurt and possibly himself as well. However, his presence seems to ruin whatever momentum Karofsky and Azimio had going, especially when he mutters something about being on his way to meet the Spanish teacher right now, and hoping he's not too late because he'd hate for "Mr. Schue" to have to come out and look for him. It's one of the more elegant passive-aggressive threats Blaine has ever heard, from a teenager anyhow.  
  
"Whatever," Karofsky mutters, looking at the blonde guy like he'd like to rip off his head and mount it on a pike.  
  
"This isn't over, fish face," he mutters as he roughly checks the blonde in the shoulder, stalking off as Azimio follows suit.  
  
"Wow, grumpy," the guy says, trying to look offended but not quite able to hide a little self satisfied smirk.  
  
Kurt is smiling too, although he looks more dazed then anything as he says, "Sam, you didn't have to do that," and Blaine can  _hear_  the smile come through in his voice.  
  
Sam smiles back at him for real as he shrugs and says, "Actually, I sort of do need those notes if you have them. My mom told me this morning if I don't start investing as much energy into learning a real language as I do with the fake ones, she was going to throw out all my specialty dictionaries and disown me."  
  
Kurt laughs a little louder than strictly necessary as he turns back to his locker and Blaine stares at the dirty marks on his shoes, noting how much nicer Kurt's look by comparison and wondering if maybe he should throw his in a washing machine or something.  
  
He doesn't look up until Sam Whoever has gone and he hears Kurt sigh in a way that can only be described as wistful.  
  
"I'm not going to lie," he says. "Sometimes it really sucks being the only gay kid at school. Especially when you've sworn off trying to convert the straight ones."  
  
"You like him?" Blaine asks, trying to picture Kurt walking down the hall, looking up into Sam's eyes and leaning into his side as they hold hands, but not quite able to manage it.  
  
"Story of my life," Kurt says. "Meet a cute boy and watch him immediately start throwing himself at Cheerios because apparently I have a type and that type? It's straight as an arrow and too cool to be desperate enough to experiment sexually."  
  
"Well it's good to see you haven't let your unfortunate taste in straight boys get you down," Blaine says. "Keep on trucking, Kurt. With that can-do attitude, I'm sure you'll find someone eventually."  
  
He doesn't stop to wonder about why a part of him hopes he's left by the time it happens.  
  
***  
  
Later that day, Blaine is rounding a corner when he hears a loud shout followed by peals of laughter. He sees Kurt standing in front of Karofsky, Azimio, and a few other jocks, dripping wet with bright green ice water, that is seeping into his clothes and presumably staining what Blaine is sure is a very expensive trench coat.  
  
"That's for calling in your faggy jock buddy to save you earlier today," Karofsky says, smirking at him. "I don't care how popular any of your friends are, Hummel. Don't ever think you're better because of them."  
  
Kurt just looks at Karofsky, sniffs a little, and stalks past the laughing crowd with his head held high. Karofsky's smirk quickly turns into a scowl. Blaine checks his watch as the students melt away into their classrooms. He watches Kurt disappear into a bathroom and hears a tap turning on a few seconds later.  
  
Blaine is going to be late for his class if he doesn't leave  _now_. He can't afford getting on anyone's radar by coming late to classes, or letting himself become a target for a school's resident meatheads. His dad has finally convinced himself that Blaine isn't going to take off any time soon, and he's been a lot nicer and easier to live with as a result, but he still doesn't like it when Blaine gets too friendly with anyone. More than once it's been the reason they leave a town ahead of schedule.  
  
Blaine sighs a little. There is no way he can afford to be Kurt Hummel's friend. It's impractical, it's dangerous, and all it will get Blaine is a truckload of problems that he's too emotionally exhausted to handle at the moment. It's just not going to happen, even if sometimes Kurt looks like he's as lonely as Blaine feels, and is funny and interesting and maybe the most amazing person Blaine's ever met.  
  
The sound of the tap can still be heard in the bathroom when the late bell rings. The hallway is completely empty.  
  
"Fuck," Blaine says under his breath, as he pushes open the bathroom door to see if there is anything he can do to help.  
  
***  
  
Whenever Blaine's dad leaves a lot of bruises, he eases off for a while. Sometimes in his more cynical moments, Blaine assumes it's to keep people from getting too suspicious when he changes in the locker room, but most of the time Blaine is pretty sure it's just guilt. His dad isn't a terrible person, really. He just has a lot of demons, he always has.  
  
One of the clearest memories Blaine has from his first days with Tom is right after the first time they slept together when Blaine  _really_  didn't want to. He doesn't remember why anymore, but it was very early on, so early that it may have only been the second time they had sex, so maybe only problem was that this time he knew how much it would hurt from experience.  
  
Tom had held him down and forced his way inside, slapping Blaine across the face when he tried to squirm away, putting his hands around Blaine's neck and squeezing tight as he shouted in Blaine's ear that he was going to kill him. Blaine doesn't remember too clearly about everything his dad did that night, he's not even sure he was conscious for all of it. There are flashes of sensation – the ache in his throat from screaming for his mom and dad; the phantom memory of white-hot spikes of pain flaring up his lower back, but mostly he remembers early the next morning when Tom had carefully crawled into the bed behind him and hugged him gently, crying his apologies into Blaine's hair.  
  
"I've done everything for you," he'd said in a rough voice. "I've given up so much for you to be safe and for us to be together. You can't make me angry like that. I never want to hurt you, but you can't say no. I can't stop myself from being like this when you throw everything I've done for us back in my face."  
  
He remembers the words perfectly because he's heard them so many times over the years. "I can't control myself when you say no, Blaine." "Don't throw all my sacrifices back in my face." "I've done everything for you. If you can't love me like you're supposed to, we might as well be dead." "I'm scared I'll kill us both if you ever try to leave me, Blaine."   
  
He's waited longer and longer over the years before he lets himself slink back to Blaine and gently hold him as he whispers his apologies, and since he's started to wait almost weeks at a time now before he touches Blaine again, it rarely stops at just holding as he carefully strokes up and down Blaine's sides and cries over the discoloured patches of skin.  
  
After they move to Lima, and Tom whips him with what he claims had once been his grandfather's bible for a solid 40 minutes, Blaine knows he won't be seeing this wildly violent side of his dad again for a while. It's especially bad this time because he makes Blaine stand away from him with his hands against the wall, and before long Blaine can't stand it anymore as he holds up his arms to block the blows as they come. Dad holds his hand flat against the wall and hits it over and over until Blaine can't even take off his jeans that night when he goes to bed. Dad has to undress him and ice his hand, his expression tight, unable to look Blaine in the eye.  
  
Blaine should be grateful. He knows that his dad always tries his best to be a better person after one of his episodes, but over the years Blaine begins to think he hates this softer, kinder, more apologetic version of his father more.  
  
He doesn't know why it's worse, but when he feels the bed dip behind him one night an hour or so after he's turned out his light, and feels rough but feather-light hands slide into the front of his sweat pants, Blaine finds himself wishing for fists and shouting and pain that blossoms out from the contact points to stun him into non-action.  
  
"I love you, Blaine," His dad whispers.   
  
"I love you, too," Blaine says, his voice thickening with the tears building up behind his eyes.  
  
Tom carefully works his pants down to his thighs as he murmurs,  
  
"You're beautiful when you cry, Blaine. I hate myself for thinking it, but you are so damn gorgeous when you get this way."  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine says, wincing when he feels a wet finger brush against his hole. Sometimes he gets in trouble when he pulls away but it can be so hard not to. The touch is so soft it almost caresses him, and the worst part of it all is how Blaine can't keep the breathy moans from falling from his mouth. The tears that had been building up just moments ago run dry and Blaine tries to block out the whirlwind of emotions stirring up inside of him, wondering if it's wrong to hope that one day Tom really does go through with it: killing them both and ending this.  
  
***  
  
Blaine is a bit of a video game junkie. He's never gotten too into MMORPGs but he's been a fan of the first-person shooter games for almost longer than he can remember. He owns all the  _Halos_  and  _Call of Duty_  instalments he can get his hands on, since his dad will get him anything he asks for. All he has to do is mention there's a new game out, and suddenly there's a credit card waving in his face, as his dad tells him to have fun, but not do anything stupid, because he's not an idiot and he actually does read the statements at the end of each month.  
  
"If you buy any plane tickets, I'll know." he always says, smiling, or sometimes "Don't run off and make me call the cops to haul your ass back here."   
  
Blaine always smiles back and says thanks before heading out, but they both know neither of them think it's funny. It's just ritual.  
  
Currently Blaine's favourite game is  _Portal_. He's sort of forgotten about it until the release for  _Portal 2_  keeps getting pushed back, and then he decides to replay the original from start to finish to kill a little time. Now it's almost the only thing he lets himself think about. Almost.  
  
"I need to find a new dealer," Blaine mutters as he looks at his rapidly diminishing pot supply. "Do you know anyone?"  
  
"Seriously?" Kurt asks, looking intensely unimpressed. "Do I look like a pothead to you?"  
  
"I don't know," Blaine says a little defensively as he stuffs the baggie into his pocket and closes the door to his locker. "What do potheads look like?"  
  
"I'd hoped not like  _you_ ," Kurt snips.  
  
"I wear poor-fitting jeans and hoodies, Kurt," Blaine says. "I've known you for two weeks now and you've already forbidden me from speaking the word Halo in your presence. According to you my hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in weeks so I won't disturb the family of mice you are convinced live there. I think I look like a stoner."  
  
"I never said I thought mice lived in your hair Blaine," Kurt says. "I just told you that if you didn't try to control it a little better that they  _could_."  
  
Kurt is smiling a little, but mostly he just looks anxious. Blaine feels bad. He wouldn't have said anything if he thought Kurt was going to start worrying about imagined crippling drug dependencies, so he says,  
  
"Don't worry, I don't do it a lot. Just when I haven't been sleeping well. It puts me out like a light. I'm done classes for the day so I figured I might as well."  
  
"You haven't been sleeping?" Kurt asks, concern in his voice.  
  
"It was a bad night last night," Blaine mutters before quickly adding, "I'll be careful, Kurt. I promise I won't get caught."  
  
"No, you probably won't," Kurt concedes. "But that's got nothing to do with how careful you're being. The faculty at this school don't know substance abuse until it has personally vomited on their shoes. Trust me, I know."  
  
Blaine senses a story there and he's about to ask about it when Kurt says,  
  
"Could you at least try to find something else? When you can't sleep or whatever? I know it's not my place but...you're the best locker neighbour I've ever had.  _And_  you agreed to meet my friend Mercedes and join us for our  _Top Model_ marathons. Not even Sam would sit through that for us. I know. Mercedes invited him once when she ran into him at her church. I don't want to see you get expelled or turn into one of those guys who brings their bong to class."  
  
"I'll try," Blaine says, and he's pretty sure he's lying but maybe not. He plans on going home and lighting up immediately, falling asleep and hopefully staying that way until the next morning, but instead he finds himself wandering around the bleachers watching the cheerleading practise, even though it's really getting too cold to sit outside and stare blankly into space.  
  
He doesn't start doing it on purpose, but before too long his mind is drifting away from impressing Kurt to trying to remember how he got past that one puzzle the last time he played  _Portal_ , and since he really is sort of tired soon he stops doing even that in favour of watching the Cheerios cartwheel as he wonders to himself what GLaDOS would tell them as they died like lab rats stuck in a never-ending maze.  
  
Blaine shakes himself when he realizes that at some point he stopped looking at the hot girls and started looking at their coach screaming at them through her bullhorn, which is right about when he hears someone say,  
  
"That's a really pretty song. I love cake."  
  
He jumps about a foot in the air and spins around to see a blonde girl in uniform sitting next to him, nodding her head along to the song he hadn't even been aware he was singing.  
  
"Holy shit," he wheezes, putting a hand to his heart. "I didn't even hear you walk up. You must move like a cat."  
  
"If I moved like a cat you would have heard me," she says. "My cat broke through a wall once just leaning against it. When he gets up to eat you can hear him in every room in the house. He loves cake, too."  
  
"Oh," Blaine doesn't exactly know what to say to her, or even why she's sitting beside him chatting instead of practising with the other girls. He goes for the easy route and offers,  
  
"I'm Blaine."  
  
"I know who you are," the girl says. "Kurt talks about you a lot. Your hair is awful."  
  
Blaine raises a hand to his head as he wonders what it is about this place and their obsession with his hair.  
  
"Is that song about sex?" The girl asks abruptly.  
  
"I'm sorry, what?"  
  
"The song," she repeats, as though she's talking to a complete moron and hell, maybe she is, because Blaine is lost. "Santana says most songs are about sex, especially if there's cake in them. My boyfriend just dumped me because he thinks I had sex with him for his voice and now I need to sing a solo for our duet competition all about how much he wishes he could be tapping my ass but he'll never be able to ever again because jerks can't get with this."  
  
She waves a indicative hand aimlessly up and down her body.  
  
"Um...I-I don't actually think this cake song has much to with sex at all, uh...I'm sorry, I think I missed your name?"  
  
"You didn't," She says. "I didn't tell you. If the song isn't about sex, what is it about?"  
  
"Video games and an evil killer robot, mostly," Blaine says.  
  
The girl nods as though she's thinking this over carefully before she breaks out in a smile and says,  
  
"That's good, too! My ex-boyfriend is part robot anyhow, so it will totally work. Thanks Blaine."  
  
"You're welcome," Blaine says, giving up on learning her name as he makes a mental note just to ask Kurt about her later. "Why are you singing a solo for a duet competition?"  
  
"Because I was using my boyfriend for his voice," She says before hopping up and down in her seat a little and asking, "Do  _you_  want to sing with me? You have to audition before you sing with us, but maybe you can do both at once. I bet Mr. Schue would  _love_  a kid on glee club who can sing two songs at the same time!"  
  
Blaine is in the middle of trying to politely decline the offer, not to mention convince her that he's not actually able to split his voice in two when they hear someone shouting for a Brittany. Blaine looks over to see a pretty Latina girl glowering at them with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Gotta go!" Brittany says brightly hopping up like they aren't mid-conversation. She leans over and kisses Blaine on the cheek before scurrying off. Blaine stares after her for a good 20 minutes, trying to figure out what exactly happened, and whether it was something akin to a good trip, or a bad one.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to think of a way to QUICKLY address this without sounding annoyed or snippy. I promise I don't mind these questions and by all means keep asking if you want! But I DO get A LOT of questions from here on out about whether I'm siding with Kurt or Blaine re: drug and alcohol use. So here it is: I don't believe everything I have my characters say. If EITHER of them start sounding like a Just-Say-No commercial from the 80s, or if they get hyper-defensive without listening to what the other person is ACTUALLY worried about, I mean for them to sound as ridiculous as I'm sure you think they sound. A big part of growing up is becoming aware that an issue exists, forming an opinion about it, and aggressively clinging to that opinion, no matter how obvious it is that sometimes there isn't a clear right or wrong. My own personal opinion is, this is one of those grey areas (ESPECIALLY for Blaine, because of issues that don't really get looked at until the sequel), and also that Kurt and Blaine haven't quite figured that out yet :)

Blaine has begun to seek Kurt out at school all the time now. It's a little disconcerting for him, because for as much as he isn't a fan of being alone, he's not the sort of person who likes getting to know people. His friends have never been much more than acquaintances – people he knows well enough to make small talk with but where the conversation stays impersonal and superficial with no one really noticing how little they know about the person sitting next to them.  
  
It's not like that with Kurt. Blaine knows the names of Kurt's parents, he knows how Kurt set his father up with his current girlfriend, and why. He knows about how alone and scared Kurt felt earlier in the year when his dad had a heart attack, and that the reason he started talking to Blaine so much in the first place is because he was hurt by how his best friends couldn't come through for him when he needed them because they were too obsessed about the state of his soul.  
  
"I love Mercedes," he'd said. "And I could never stay mad at her. But when we talk now all I can think about is how I always thought she was the perfect friend, and then the one time I needed her earn this admittedly unrealistic pedestal I keep her on, that's the time she couldn't do it. It really hurt."  
  
Blaine loves that Kurt tells him things that are so deeply personal, like he thinks Blaine can help him deal with jerks like Karofsky and Azimio, or tell him how to save the most important friendship he's ever had. The truth is Blaine doesn't have the first clue what to say to Kurt most of the time, but Kurt doesn't seem to mind.   
  
He says it feels better to just talk about it sometimes, and that he doesn't want Blaine to feel like he has to start bearing his soul but because Kurt "has word diarrhea" but Blaine knows enough to get that this sort of thing goes both ways and if he doesn't start opening up a little too, Kurt will find someone else to talk to.  
  
So he starts to tell Kurt things he's never told another human being about himself and Kurt isn't kidding. Even just giving Kurt the heavily censored version of his life makes him feel a million times lighter, especially because he's starting to realize that even though his life is beyond messed up, somehow he's more like other kids his age than he thought.  
  
He tells Kurt that his mother is "gone" when Kurt mentions his own mother is dead. They find out that they were almost the same age when it happened and before he can stop himself Blaine hears himself ask, "are you ever scared that you'll forget her?" and then, "sometimes I wish I would forget my mom, so it would stop hurting, and that scares me even more."  
  
Kurt laughs a little and shakes his head.   
  
"I could never explain that to my dad without it destroying him," he says. "But yeah. I know exactly what you mean. Finn's dad died when he was a baby and sometimes I envy him. Carole loves my dad and everything, but she still gets this look in her eyes when she talks about Finn's dad. I see that look, and all I can think is how  _lucky_  Finn is. He'll never know what he lost."  
  
Blaine likes hearing these stories, the ones about Kurt's family, most of all. There are a lot of them. Kurt is still reeling from the near loss of his father and as a result has been sticking extra close to home. Sometimes it seems like he's trying to get things back to normal, like whenever he reminds Blaine about his promise to go spend an evening watching reality television at Kurt's house, but he always shies away from the actual follow through.   
  
He acts like his father is made of glass and could shatter at any time if too many people are allowed near him. One morning he even admits that if he had it his way even Finn would be kept 50 feet away from his dad at all times, but Blaine thinks Kurt is just saying that because the night before he caught his would-be brother trying to sneak a cheeseburger into Burt's room.  
  
Blaine has never really had much insight into how other people's home's function, but he's struck by how Kurt's family seems to love each other so much, how they make things work when there's tension. He's heard all about the big blowout between Kurt and Finn, and even after that Burt and Carole fought to make things better. Blaine wishes his own parents had been like them.  
  
His own family imploded when Blaine was so little he can't even really remember how it happened anymore. He knows it was his fault, somehow, and that whatever he did was so terrible that even Tom, someone who likes to point out Blaine's shortcomings as a hobby, won't tell him what it was. Still – he was a 7-year-old kid. How can a little kid possibly do something so evil that it makes his own parents stop loving him?  
  
He never says anything to Tom, maybe because he's afraid he'll find out he's wrong, but sometimes he thinks his parents were just shitty at their job. Mr. Hummel and Mrs. Hudson aren't even married, they have no parental bonds with these two new teenagers who are suddenly a part of their lives, and yet they're so invested in them.   
  
Kurt says before the heart attack Finn and Burt went to sporting events all the time and are slowly getting back into the habit now that Burt is rallying a little. As for Carole, the happiest Blaine has ever seen Kurt is the day he walks up to their lockers talking about the cooking class he signed up for with Carole. On the surface it is so they can learn new "heart healthy" recipes for Burt, but it's really because they have turned the art of kitchen gossip into an art form.  
  
"She's so much fun," Kurt admits, a little embarrassed. "There's a chart on the fridge we use to keep track of which Celebrity has the most incarcerations and rehab stints."  
  
"Let me guess," Blaine says, not even hesitating. "Lindsay's winning, right?"  
  
Kurt cackles more than a little maliciously when he answers,  
  
"We had to tape an extra sheet to the first one because we ran out of room for her."  
  
Still, for as much as Blaine likes hearing about Kurt's life, he knows he'd never fit in Kurt's world. It's amazing they're even friends. When Blaine tries to imagine going to Kurt's house, or meeting Mercedes and the rest of the glee club, it makes his skin crawl when he realizes just how out of his element he would be.  
  
But Blaine's luck can't hold out forever and even though Blaine desperately wants to believe that Kurt can't have gotten over his heart attack trauma so quickly, one day he is asking Blaine if he finally wants to make good on the long talked-of  _Top Model_  marathon. Blaine's trepidation only grows when Kurt lets it slip that not only would it be his first time speaking to Mercedes for more than 2 minutes when she comes to drag Kurt away from their conversations into the choir room, it is also the first time Mercedes has been at the Hummel's since Burt got sick.  
  
"Shouldn't that be a special visit for you two?" He asks, cautiously. "I don't want her to feel like she has to fight to spend time with you."  
  
Kurt brushes this off, explaining that "it's not like that at all. This isn't about friend time: we're on a mission to create the world's greatest Rocky Horror costumes, ideally without having to go farther than our own closets. Besides, it won't be just us. Dad and Finn are going to their first football game, now that I've gotten them to sign a contract in writing that says they won't go near the chilli dogs, so Carole is stopping by to show Mercedes how to make a French twist that won't advertise a weave."  
  
Blaine's heart sinks a little lower, because now not only does he have to worry about Burt and Mercedes finding out how badly Kurt's new friend is going to measure up to their standards, Finn and Carole will be getting in on the act, too.  
  
Kurt evidently notices the trepidation on Blaine's face because he starts to backpedal, saying,  
  
"Oh wow. It sounds like I'm describing a day at the spa or something, doesn't it? You don't have to come if you don't want to. I won't mind."  
  
"No it's fine," Blaine hears himself saying before he can take the offer and run. "It'll be awesome. I  _love_  Rocky Horror."  
  
This is a lie.  
  
"'Time Warp' is pretty much the coolest song ever."  
  
This is  _not_  a lie, but will it be enough to save the evening? Blaine is doubtful, but Kurt is beaming at him so he takes a deep breath and concentrates on smiling as convincingly as possible.  
  
***  
  
  
Things at Kurt's start out awkward and never really improve. Blaine hates being in someone else's home, for a start. None of his homes have ever been particularly lived in and whenever he's in a place that someone has obviously taken the time to get comfortable in, he feels like he's all jagged edges and in the way.  
  
Still, Kurt looks so happy to see him when he opens the door and leads him inside that Blaine forces down his misgivings so that when they reach the basement he's relaxed enough to wave back to Mercedes when she says hello from her spot on the couch, where she is ensconced in various articles of clothing.  
  
"Wow," Blaine says as he looks around him. "That's a lot of corsets."  
  
Kurt waves his hand, dismissively.  
  
"But only about half of them are mine," he says, and Blaine thinks about Kurt wearing one of them to school for about two seconds before he decides that Kurt is the bravest person he's ever met.  
  
"You can never have to many corsets," Mercedes says, as she fiddles with the boning on one of them. "That's the bedrock our friendship was founded on."  
  
Kurt and Mercedes go off on a corset tangent for a few minutes as Blaine stares at both of them and feels completely out of his element before Kurt turns on the big screen TV and gestures for Blaine to take a seat on the couch beside Mercedes. He only hesitates a little.  
  
Maybe Blaine is just paranoid, but Mercedes almost seems to be radiating disapproval, and it's all directed towards him. He's not sure why, unless Kurt didn't know what he was talking about when he said tonight wasn't a big deal. Kurt remains happily oblivious as he scurries to the kitchen for what he promises are an array of low-carb snacks, leaving Blaine with a girl whose veiled hostility towards him becomes anything but the second they're alone.  
  
"Kurt really likes you," she says flatly. "He barely knows you and you're all he ever talks about."  
  
Blaine smiles a little before he can catch himself. Sometimes he still wonders if he's just a charity case Kurt has undertaken as an act of public service, so it's nice to hear anything that indicates otherwise.  
  
"Thanks," he says before adding. "He talks about you all the time, too," because the attitude is probably just jealousy over Kurt finding a new friend, right?  
  
Mercedes doesn't waste any time shooting holes into this theory.  
  
"Look," she says. "Kurt's life is really hard right now. His dad is sick and he gets hell every time walks into that school; this year it's like those jocks are sharks and Kurt's the bloody piece of meat someone tossed in the tank. I don't know you and I may not want to once I've spent a little time with you. I guess that doesn't really matter, but you need to understand something: Kurt is my  _best_  friend. If you ever do anything to hurt him? I will force-feed you your own scrotum. We clear?"  
  
"Yes?" Blaine says, scooting a little further away from her.  
  
Suddenly he feels a lot more uneasy about meeting Carole if this is how over-protective Kurt's  _friends_  get.  
  
***  
  
Carole, as it turns out, is the only person Blaine meets that evening that he doesn't have to worry about impressing. Before she arrives most of the night consists of Kurt filling him in on the nuances of reality fashion television when he's not watching Kurt and Mercedes eagerly put together costumes for their musical.  
  
Blaine briefly scores some points with Mercedes by making her laugh when he tells Kurt that the Riff-Raff hair and makeup make him look like a meth head.   
  
He picks up a picture of Kurt that was taken not too long ago and holds it up next to Kurt's pale, balding head, saying,  
  
"It's like one of those before and after rogue's galleries they put in the papers sometimes. This is you after five months of drug use and renovating your house at three in the morning."  
  
In a classic case of Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back, he has Mercedes scowling in total disapproval two seconds later when he adds,  
  
"Say whatever you want about my marijuana, but at least it won't make me age 10 years overnight."  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes a little and says,  
  
"I moisturize. I can handle it. Besides, no one even mentioned marijuana. Why did you even bother bringing it up? It's kind of hyper-defensive, don't you think? What's wrong, Blaine? Are you worried that your incredibly stupid hobby might be, I don't know, incredibly stupid?"  
  
Blaine and Kurt have reached an agreement about Blaine's drug use. Kurt hates it and will pull no punches when it comes to mercilessly mocking Blaine about it, but he doesn't bother to use up any energy trying to convince him to see the error of his ways, either.  
  
"That's something you need to work out, not me," he says one day. "If you ever decide to stop sabotaging your life and get your act together, I'll be waiting here to cheer you on. Until that day, I support your right to make appallingly bad life choices."  
  
Blaine sees this as further proof that Kurt is the greatest person in the world to pick for his first real friend. Since Kurt is always talking about how accepting the glee club is, so Blaine sort of assumed that they would have a similar attitude if he ever met them, but when he looks at Mercedes' face and remembers Kurt talking about how the whole glee club responded to Kurt's dismissal of religion during his "hour of need," he realizes a little too late that maybe the open-mindedness of Kurt's friends goes out the window when his well being is called into question.  
  
Blaine guesses he can understand why these people want to protect Kurt. It's sort of hard to not want to after you've seen him do that flinching blink thing where he tries to act like he's fine but it's so obvious that he's anything but. It's a lot like watching a hurt puppy, limping along as it tries to act as normal as possible, but really bewildered and sad, like it can't understand why it hurts. It's sad and disconcerting and you just want to make everything better. This is why Blaine has become Kurt's unofficial slushie stain assistant. He will do anything to take that look off Kurt's face whenever he sees it there.  
  
Mercedes, it seems, takes this protectiveness even farther and has apparently decided vetting Kurt's new friends is necessary, so she is able to nip all future possibilities of Sad Kurt in the bud. So far it looks like Blaine is failing the approval process. He is miserably wondering if he should just go home when he hears a door slam and a cheerful voice calling out, "Hello? Anyone home?"  
  
"Down here, Carole," Kurt calls and a few minutes later Blaine is meeting Carole Hudson. Who is perfect.   
  
Blaine has only ever really seen Finn in passing at school, but he's suddenly so jealous of him that he has trouble thinking straight. This woman is the mother Blaine has always wished he had. He knows his own can't have been worth much if she could just toss him aside when he got to be too much work, but Carole seems to embody all the good things he remembers about having a mother.  
  
She smiles brightly and hugs everyone, even him. She asks Kurt and Mercedes about glee club, really listening to what they say, like she really cares about the answer. She works to make sure Blaine doesn't fade into the background, which he's been trying to do ever since she walked in, but when she asks him things he doesn't feel like she's testing him, or judging him when he answers. She's endlessly patient with Mercedes as they work to build a hairstyle with no traces of weave in it.  
  
Blaine didn't even know this was a problem for girls. Hell, he barely knows what a weave is and says as much. All three look at him pityingly.  
  
"You sound like me 15 years ago," Carole says. "Maybe if I'd been a little better informed I wouldn't have been tricked into getting such a terrible one by that idiot hair dresser."  
  
"What happened?" Mercedes asks, as she attempts to arrange her real hair over one of those creepy seams that have been sewn right onto her head. Blaine tries not to think about because it's making him feel a little queasy.  
  
"I was a brand new mom and Finn's dad had just gone on his first tour of duty. I was busy, tired, and beside myself with worry, and the lady giving my hair a touch up told me I should do something nice for myself. She made it sound like getting extensions would be like the most rewarding experience of my life. Like it was a gift that would keep on giving. Which, admittedly it was, just not in the way that I wanted."  
  
Mercedes is looking at Carole sadly, like she is telling them about the death of a close relative instead of just a bad haircut, when Kurt breaks in and says,  
  
"She's leaving out the worst part. She was at a Supercuts."  
  
Mercedes squeaks and her hands fly to her mouth in what can only be described as terror as Carole laughs. Blaine tries not to let on that he has no idea what the problem with that is as she says,  
  
"I looked like someone had stapled a dead cat on my head. I didn't have the money to get it taken out again, so each day I ended up spending  _hours_  trying to make the thing look even the slightest bit like real hair."  
  
"Well you sure got good at it, anyhow," Mercedes comments, looking at her own hair's progress in the mirror.  
  
"Do you want to try it with the part on the other side for fun?" Carole asks, and perfect mother or not, Blaine doesn't think he can take much more of this.  
  
"Is there a washroom upstairs that I can use?" He asks suddenly.  
  
"Hmm?" Kurt says. "Oh, sure. Down the hallway and to the left."  
  
As Blaine makes his way up the stairs he hears the door slam again and voices coming from just beyond the landing.  
  
" – got to be done by now," one is saying. "How long can they do each other's hair?"  
  
"That's a dangerous question, son," says the second voice.  
  
Blaine opens the door. Standing in front of him are Finn Hudson and someone Blaine can only assume is Kurt's father. Blaine's first thought is that Kurt can't possibly be related to someone who wears so much flannel, but no matter how much his mind rebels at the concept the proof is right there in front of him, looking at him suspiciously.  
  
"Can I help you?" The man asks gruffly. His words are polite, but the tone is telling Blaine exactly what's in store for him if he puts even a toe out of line.  
  
"I was just looking for the bathroom," he says, cautiously. "There's a lot of...product in the one downstairs right now."  
  
"I've seen you at school before, right?" Finn pipes up. "You're the new kid – Blaine?"  
  
Blaine nods, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. The look Finn's giving him isn't contempt exactly, but just like Mercedes, it's very,  _very_  suspicious.   
  
"I didn't know you and Kurt were such good friends," he says, looking over Blaine's appearance and okay, maybe Blaine wouldn't have expected Kurt would want to hang out with someone like him, either. He stares at them dumbly for a moment before Burt finally moves to the side and repeats Kurt's instructions:  
  
"Down the hall and to the left."  
  
As Blaine is walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him he hears Kurt's feet come up the stairs to be greeted by Finn's incredulous,  
  
"You invited one of the stoners to come hang out for a makeover night at your house?"  
  
 _Great_ , Blaine thinks, as he momentarily leans his head against the door. Apparently tonight has been nothing more than the universe reminding him that normalcy will never be an option for him. He just wishes the universe would find ways to tell him that aren't so embarrassing.  
  
It's possible he hides in the safe haven of ceramics and household cleaners a little longer than is strictly necessary, but eventually Blaine decides that he feels brave enough to face Kurt's world again. As he's walking back through the hallway he hears voices coming from behind one of the bedroom doors. One of the voices belongs to Kurt, and he sounds frustrated. Blaine slows to a stop so he can listen.  
  
" – making a big deal out of nothing, Dad." Kurt is saying.  
  
"I don't want you hanging around any kind of bad influence," His dad says. "I've had more than enough phone calls from that school telling me that you've been found crying over Disney in an altered mind state."  
  
Blaine again resolves to make Kurt break down and tell him the whole drunk story as Kurt says in his most exasperated voice,  
  
"Dad! That was one time! And Blaine is not like that. He just hangs out with the stoners a lot, he's not an idiot like the rest of them. There's nothing wrong with him, I swear."  
  
"Not like the others?" His dad repeats. "So he's not a drug abuser and just hangs out with the potheads for – what? The scintillating conversation?"  
  
"You're not being fair," Kurt says. "A person can occasionally use recreational drugs and still be a decent human being, dad. I don't see you bugging Finn for being best friends with Puck, and  _he_  smokes pot."  
  
"Finn is not my son," Burt says. " _You_  are. Besides, isn't Puck the guy who used to toss you into dumpsters when he wasn't getting Finn's girlfriend pregnant? I forget, what's he been up to lately again? Something about juvie for trying to steal an ATM, right? You`re not helping your case much, Kurt."  
  
"Blaine is a good guy, Dad," Kurt says, with forced patience. "He's even cut back on how much he smokes, just because I told him I didn't like it. I've been beside myself worrying about you lately and he's the only person who's there to listen to me when I'm freaking out without offering up asinine platitudes that are clearly only being said to make  _himself_  feel better. He helps me deal with the bullies at school when everyone else is too busy to notice. He's just – he's a great friend to me and I want to be one for him, too."  
  
"Kurt," his dad's voice is cautious and suddenly pitches too low for Blaine to make out the words.  
  
"He's a friend, Dad," is Kurt's tired response. "I've learned my lesson, I swear."  
  
Blaine wanders back into the kitchen where Mercedes is carefully painting Carole's nails as she barks, "Wipe that impatient look off your face, white boy, or I'll do yours next" to Finn, who indeed is sitting on the other side of the kitchen table with an impatient expression. Carol looks up to Blaine and smiles.  
  
"Hi sweetie," she says, and Blaine feels another pang of familiarity wash over him. "We thought we'd move upstairs and keep Finn and Burt company."  
  
Blaine nodes.  
  
"I really need to be going," he says, awkwardly.   
  
"Aren't you going to wait and say goodnight to Kurt?" Mercedes asks. She doesn't look very impressed.  
  
"Um, I think he's busy," Blaine manages. "I heard him talking to his dad on the way back here. It sounds like they may take a while."  
  
Mercedes looks a little chagrined, like she has a good idea what the conversation is about. Carole definitely is giving him a knowing look, but still smiles sympathetically when she tells him,  
  
"I'll let Kurt know you said goodbye."  
  
Blaine glances at his watch as he walks down the front steps. It's 9:30. He walks to the park, ignoring the bite in the air as he sits down on the first bench that he sees. He wonders how long he can avoid going home. 


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where things get DARK. I mean it. There are triggers EVERYWHERE. Please look at the warnings again and make sure you're aware of them before you keep reading.

_Blaine just wants to go home. His misses his mom and his dad and his grandma and grandpa.  
  
"Well they don't miss you," Tom says. "I'm getting sick of your whining, Francis. Do you want me to throw you out, too?"  
  
"I just want to go home," Blaine says again, trying very hard not to cry.  
  
"You are home," Tom says. "Where ever I am is home, remember?"  
  
There are a lot of new things for Blaine to remember now. His parents aren't his parents anymore. Tom is his new dad. Blaine isn't even his name anymore. It is Francis and it will stay Francis unless Tom decides otherwise, even though Blaine thinks it isn't a good name for a boy at all. Tom is always right, even when he tells Blaine things his _real _mom and dad would never say.  
  
"Your old parents didn't care enough about you to tell you the truth all the time," he says. "They lied to you when it was easier. I won't lie to you."  
  
Still, Blaine feels like he knows his parents better than he knows Tom, and that this must make them better people to trust. After all, Tom has only been there from May to almost October. That's a really long time, but his mom and dad have known Blaine _forever _.  
  
"They never lied to me," he argues.  
  
"Yeah?" Tom points to the elephant, to Horton. "Did they tell you that was your good-bye present?"  
  
Blaine feels his stomach sink because Tom's right – his dad _didn't _tell him anything about good-bye, and both his mom_ and _Tom say if you don't tell the whole truth, it's an entire lie. It doesn't matter who Blaine chooses to believe, according to everyone, his old mom and dad lied to him. It's not the only thing they lied about, either.  
  
Blaine's mom and dad used to say they wanted Blaine to learn things from them and not from his friends. Once his dad smiled sort of funny and said something about Blaine being the kid on the playground doing the talking instead of the one doing the listening, but his mom had rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder, and no one ever really told him what they meant. Instead, they bought him a lot of books about how babies are made, because that was one of the things he should know about. All the books said that a mom and a dad make babies to show that they love each other.   
  
They also bought him a lot of books about things with rhyming names like stranger danger, which was all about how people shouldn't touch you certain places without your permission, because it is very important for people to respect your space. Tom tells Blaine that's not all the way true.  
  
"People have sex because it feels good," he says. "It's a way people tell each other that they love each other. When your old parents said you shouldn't be touched it wasn't because being touched is bad. It's because they didn't think you deserved to have someone love you that much."  
  
Tom loves Blaine that much, and he touches him all the time. Blaine tries not to be scared by it, but it's hard. No matter how much Tom tells him it's good, Blaine doesn't like the way Tom's touches make him feel. They make him feel squirmy deep down and if he doesn't stop soon enough it starts to hurt like he needs to use the bathroom but can't. It makes him embarrassed and it makes him scared, but Tom never stops, not even when he asks him to.  
  
"You'll learn," he always says as he bends down to kiss Blaine. Blaine doesn't like the kissing either. He wants things to go back to the way they were.  
  
***  
  
Another lie Blaine's old family told him was about police officers, and other people in charge. If you're ever in trouble, if you ever get lost or need someone to help you, they always said to go and find a policeman. Tom always tells him not to trust police officers and other adults, because these people do not want to help Blaine, or anyone else.  
  
"They're just doing their jobs like everyone else," he says. "If you ask for help, you make their jobs harder. They will get mad at you and you'll get into even bigger trouble. Just find me and ask me for everything you need. I'll look after you."  
  
At first Blaine isn't sure who is telling the truth. He would like someone to help him because more than anything he wants to find his parents and tell them how sorry he is. He's sure that if he can talk to them they will give him another chance. He doesn't say any of this to Tom, but maybe Tom can tell what Blaine thinks, because he doesn't even let Blaine out of the house to find anyone to ask.  
  
He doesn't even see another person until just before they move for the very first time, one day in mid October. Blaine thinks it has something to do with the house, but he doesn't understand what exactly. The house they live in isn't even Tom's. It belongs to one of Tom's friends who has agreed to let them stay there for a while.  
  
Even though Blaine never sees the friend at first, he can hear Tom fighting with him on the phone about money and rent. Tom says that he's paying enough for them to stay there already, but Blaine guesses that the friend doesn't agree because they talk about it all the time. Sometimes after they talk Tom is so angry that he throws things around at the walls. Blaine starts to hide in one of the other rooms when he hears the phone ring.  
  
Finally one day when it's just getting cold and frosty outside, Tom comes into the living room and sits down next to Blaine as he's watching TV.  
  
"Someone is coming over tonight," he says. "It's very important that you do everything he says. If you disappoint him we'll both be in a lot of trouble."  
  
Tom's friend is called Roy – or maybe it's Rick. It's funny, but Blaine has a lot of trouble afterwards remembering just what his name is. He has a hard time remembering anything about him beyond what he is wearing when Tom lets him in, late, late that night.  
  
He has on pressed pants, dark blue with a matching short-sleeved shirt; his dark blue windbreaker has big white letters on the back, but it's set to the side before Blaine can see what they say. The man has a belt with lots of extra things attached to it: a flashlight, and a walkie-talkie, and a club, and –   
  
"Really?" Tom says, sounding disgusted as they both watch Tom's friend carefully take the gun out of its holster and place it on a high shelf. "Is that necessary?"  
  
The man shrugs.  
  
"Came straight from work. Didn't want to waste any time."  
  
Tom makes an angry noise and looks the other way as his friend looks at Blaine and says,  
  
"Hey there, buddy. I've been looking forward to talking to you."  
  
"Are you a policeman?" Blaine asks, looking again at the man's uniform and gun. "Did you come to take me home?"  
  
The man looks surprised before he starts to laugh loudly, which Blaine doesn't think is very nice.  
  
"What's the matter kid?" He asks. "Not happy living with Tom? Think you can do better?"  
  
Police officer or not, Blaine does _not _like this man.  
  
"I just want to see my parents," he mutters.  
  
"You are like a _fucking _broken record," Tom snaps as he grabs his keys and heads for the door.  
  
"Remember our agreement," he says to his friend, who is still laughing. "Nothing he can't handle, okay?"  
  
"Hey, I'm a cop," the man says, and his smile is meaner than anything Blaine has ever seen. "If you can't trust me, you can't trust anyone."  
  
***  
  
The friend leaves before Tom gets back. Blaine stays where he is, sprawled out on the sheets that are damp and dirty. He thinks he may have wet the bed and he wants to go crawl away and hide in a corner because only babies do that. He doesn't move.  
  
There is a high, wobbly whining sound but otherwise the room is quiet. Blaine feels like he is trapped, wrapped up in nothing and all he can feel is pain. He wants to cry long and hard but he can't _move _because his legs feel like they aren't even his own anymore and just breathing feels like rubbing glass against his insides.  
  
He doesn't think about his mom or his dad, only the next breathe in or out and the stabbing pain that comes with it. He doesn't know how long he stays there because it feels like no time and forever all at once, but at some point, just when the room is changing from black to grey, he hears footsteps walking into the room and hears Tom's voice swearing loudly.  
  
Blaine tries to cringe away and the noise gets louder as pain explodes behind Blaine's eyes. Tom rushes over to him, making shhhing noises and Blaine realizes that the noise has been coming from him this whole time. Tom carefully turns him over and Blaine sees tears in his eyes as he runs his fingers through Blaine's hair.  
  
"It's okay," Tom says. "It's okay. He's gone; he's not coming back."  
  
"Why did you leave me?" Blaine asks, the words forcing themselves out alongside the gasping sobs that up until now have been trapped inside.  
  
"He promised not to hurt you like this," Tom says as he very gently looks between Blaine's legs and Blaine's cries get louder.  
  
Tom swears again and begins to stand up.  
  
"No," Blaine shrieks, his hands reaching up to fist into Tom's clothes. "Don't leave."  
  
"I'm not leaving, I'm going to get some things to make you feel better. I'll be right back, I promise."  
  
Tom's voice isn't angry but it's definitely saying Look At Me underneath the words. Blaine does.  
  
"Other people lie to you, right?"  
  
Blaine nods, because it's true. His parents say they love him; his teachers say police take you home when you are lost; friends say you can trust them when you can't.  
  
"I will never lie to you," Tom says sternly. "You're mine and nobody else has any right to touch you or hurt you or do any of this to you again. Have I ever made you hurt like this?"  
  
He looks scared as he asks but Blaine doesn't even have to think before he says, "No."  
  
Tom hurts him. He makes Blaine do things he doesn't like. He's taken away his name. But he's never made him feel like _this _before – so alone and sick and destroyed that the only thing left in his world is what hurts.  
  
"Do you believe the things I say to you?" Tom asks, and Blaine nods, because so far Tom hasn't been wrong.  
  
"Then don't worry," Tom says. "I won't leave you, and I will be right back."_  
  
***  
  
The situation with Karofsky has gotten out control. Blaine is a little surprised by how he seems to be the only one to fully understand this. Not even Kurt is trying to acknowledge how screwed up everything's become. He just blinks past the pain as he's all but thrown into lockers and pretends not to notice when Karofsky stares at him with an expression that never leads to anything good, in Blaine's experience.  
  
Blaine's not the most observant guy in the world. Teachers always get frustrated at how forgetful he is, and how easily he gets distracted, so it's scary to him when he realizes he's the only one who's noticed. He first sees it one day when he's helping Kurt wash slushie out of his hair for what feels like the tenth time that week.  
  
"I wonder how much of my money has literally gone down the drain at this school," Kurt muses as he pulls product out of his bag one bottle at a time. "Hair like mine isn't cheap, you know."  
  
Blaine has nothing of value to add to a conversation about hair, something he now knows from experience, so he changes the subject.  
  
"It's always Karofsky. Have you ever noticed?"  
  
Kurt bristles a little but still says,  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I know I don't get as many slushies as you and your other friends," Blaine says, and Kurt interrupts,  
  
"You've only been hit three times. You might as well be invisible."  
  
"But it's been a different person each time," Blaine continues. "Karofsky is  _always_  the one going after you."  
  
"Not always," Kurt says, but he sounds a little uncertain. "Lewis from track and field got me last week."  
  
"Because Karofsky put him up to it," Blaine says.  
  
Kurt doesn't say anything for a minute as he fusses with his hair but he looks upset. Blaine wonders what he's missing at first, until he really lets himself think about it: the predatory gleam in the jock's eye when Kurt walks into a room and how his eyes follow him everywhere with a burning look that makes Blaine want to run.  
  
Blaine is fully aware that he's being paranoid and that no matter what his dad says the universe probably isn't out to prey on the vulnerable. He realizes the majority of the suspicious and unpleasant things he sees in the world around him and the people who inhabit it are all products of his own imagination. Until Kurt suddenly gives up on his hair and turns around to look Blaine straight in the eye.  
  
"Sometimes it feels like he does the things that he does just so he can put his hands on me."  
  
Blaine is certain the blood is draining from his face right now but Kurt is already backtracking.  
  
"Sorry," he says, shaking his head and rubbing his face as he turns back to the mirror. "That was stupid. I don't even know – it sounds so much dumber out loud than it did in my head."  
  
Blaine doesn't answer. It's clear that Kurt has been thinking this for a while, no matter what he's saying right now, and he's been waiting for even the smallest acknowledgment from someone else before he lets himself talk about it. Blaine wishes he had brought this up sooner. Wishes he had figured out what was so off-putting in the way Karofsky harasses Kurt when he doesn't think anyone else is watching. The way he gets off on having power over another person.  
  
"Hey Kurt," he says when he realizes the other boy has begun gathering up his things. "Do me a favour?"  
  
Kurt looks at him expectantly.  
  
"Try not to be alone when Karofsky's around. Maybe you are wrong, but that guy can be really fucking creepy."  
  
***  
  
He doesn't think Kurt ever mentions Dave Karofsky specifically to any of his other friends, but Blaine does notice he starts sticking much closer to them, the guys in particular. This makes Blaine feel a little better, because he knows  _he's_ certainly no threat to Karofsky, but Finn is taller than a tree and the ATM guy is back now and his stint at juvie has most of the school keeping their distance, making it impossible for Karofsky's to send out lackeys for the time being.  
  
Kurt has plenty of excuses to hang out with them too, because the guys in glee club are teaming up in some lame guys versus girls singing competition which is, according to Kurt, "apparently a tradition now."   
  
True it's a little awkward whenever Blaine happens to be there and Kurt strikes up a conversation with Finn to avoid Karofsky. This is mostly because Finn will frequently stop mid-sentence to stare at Blaine in confusion, like he still can't figure out why Kurt is friends with him. The problem isn't so much that Finn doesn't get it so much as it is that Blaine doesn't like to be reminded about how  _he_  doesn't get it, either.  
  
Puck and Artie aren't bad at all, though. He thinks Artie is a little weird, and is pretty sure Puck's time in a correctional facility has made him more of a frightened bunny than a top dog, but after they get over their initial shock at Kurt making friends with someone who can't dress, they're really easygoing guys. Plus they all share a love of video games, which is nice. He wishes Artie wouldn't spend so much time moping over Brittany, especially because he thinks their breakup was Artie's fault in the first place.  
  
"I miss her like air," he's saying to Puck one day in the cafeteria. Kurt and Blaine have just started to walk their direction after seeing Karofsky eyeing them from the jock table. "She's the only girl I'll ever love. Have I told you about how she does the world's best GLaDOS impression yet?"  
  
Puck rolls his eyes and Blaine feels pressure on his back as Kurt steers him past.  
  
"Let's go outside instead," he says. "I can't listen to that again."  
  
"It wasn't even a GLaDOS impression," Blaine protests, not for the first time. "When I asked her she told me she sang it like that because she was still trying to figure out where the sex came in. She said sometimes she forgets to blink when she's thinking."  
  
"It's true," Kurt concedes before asking, "When did you talk to Brittany again? Are you still watching Cheerios practise? Because if Coach Sylvester thinks you're being paid to spy by one of her competitors, she'll torture you. It's happened before."  
  
"No," Blaine says. "I've been talking to her and Santana at a few parties."  
  
"Explain to me again how you're cool enough to get invited to parties that have Cheerios at them? Or parties at all?" He looks at Blaine accusingly. "You told me you weren't popular."  
  
Blaine pats him on the head fondly, which earns him a swat as Kurt begins the slow and hilarious process of making sure nothing has moved out of place.  
  
"Oh Kurt," he says. "I just show up. All you have to do is friend them on Facebook and suddenly you know about every party in Ohio."  
  
"But how do you get them to friend you?"  
  
Blaine shrugs.  
  
"Some of them accept friend requests as often as they allegedly spread their legs for the football team. And a few of them are apparently so popular they don't have time to question why a Brad Pitt look-a-like from Russia wants to get to know them better."  
  
"But you don't even like them."  
  
"Not usually," Blaine agrees, although he really does like the odd few, like Brittany and Santana, who frequently forget to hit on him in favour of making out with each other in a way that is both debauched and adorable.  
  
"Why do you bother?" Kurt asks.  
  
"Better than hanging out at home all the time," says Blaine.  
  
"Hang out with me instead," Kurt suggests, and his face has that worried look to it that it so often gets when they start to talk about Blaine.  
  
"I already hang out with you," Blaine says and it's true. He's been over to Kurt's place a few times now. Burt still looks at him in obvious disapproval but whenever Carole's there he eases off a little, as Carole has obviously decided Blaine needs mothering and gives Burt very pointed looks whenever she feels Mr. Hummel isn't putting enough effort into being welcoming. The problem is Blaine knows this grace period won't last. He's the sort of person who wears out his welcome quickly so he's trying to stretch out his time with Kurt's family over as long a period as possible.  
  
"What are you doing tonight?" Kurt asks suddenly. "Do you want to come over tonight?"  
  
He's got a look of determination and Blaine smiles a little as he says,  
  
"It's sweet that you've chosen tonight to manipulate me into saving me from whatever it is you think you're saving me from, but don't you already have plans? A glee council of war or something?" Kurt's face falls as he realizes.  
  
"Right. I was going to try to get them to settle on costumes." He shakes his head. "But that won't take me long, I've got it all planned already. Come over after."  
  
"Kurt I was there when you designed those things," Blaine says. "You know that the feathers alone mean you have a whole evening of fighting ahead of you before they agree to  _anything_."  
  
Kurt scowls a little and is starting to answer when all of the sudden there's a loud bang and Blaine is staring at an empty space. Karofsky smirks over his shoulder at them as he continues down the hallway, and Blaine wonders how long he was following them as he goes to help Kurt up. Kurt mutters a thank you as he takes Blaine's hand and Blaine frowns as he see Kurt wince when he attempts to straighten out his spine.  
  
"This isn't good," he says. "We have to do something about him."  
  
"I'm open to suggestions," Kurt says.  
  
Blaine doesn't say anything. He has no idea what to say.  
  
***  
  
The next day at school Kurt is radiant.  
  
"Did they okay the feathers?" Blaine asks, but Kurt scoffs.  
  
"Who cares about feathers?" he says. "Who cares about anything at this stupid school? You'll never guess what happened to me last night."  
  
Kurt talks about Dalton Academy like it's an authentic Alexander McQueen, Hogwarts, and Christmas morning all rolled into one.  
  
"It's perfect there," he gushes. "Everything is beautiful and sophisticated and they weren't even mad when they caught me spying on their glee club. Two of them even took me out for coffee."  
  
He quiets down and seems to grow more serious, so Blaine prompts,  
  
"Kurt?"  
  
"I told Wes and David – the ones who took me out for coffee – a little about what's been happening here with Karofsky. I mean, I'll never see them again so what can it hurt, right? They said Dalton has a zero tolerance bullying policy. The last time a student there  _tripped_  another kid on purpose he ended up getting expelled."  
  
"Sounds nice," Blaine says. "And expensive too, from all the other things you're saying. Too bad we'll never be able to afford it."  
  
There's a strange lull in the conversation, causing Blaine to ask,  
  
" _Can_  you afford it?"  
  
"No," Kurt admits. "But Wes mentioned a couple scholarships that are available. I get good grades. I get  _really_  good grades. What if I  _could_  get into a place like Dalton? How incredible would that be?"  
  
 _I'd never see you again_ , is the only response Blaine can think to say in response to that, so he just smiles weakly and listens as Kurt gets lost in his fantasies of Westerville, leaving Blaine far behind.  
  
***  
  
Sometimes he thinks that there's a chance Kurt never would have mentioned Westerville, Ohio or Dalton Academy ever again, if things had ever eased up a little at McKinley and the bullying had returned to a normal level. After all, on the average day Kurt isn't even a particularly high target with the school's most persistent bullies.  
  
It's true that his voice, his attitude, and his outrageous fashion statements have earned him a good deal of notoriety, but the same can just as easily be said about Rachel Berry, or even that Jacob kid from the school paper. The bullies at McKinley are some of the worst Blaine has ever seen, but their approach is lazy and lacking any sort of genuine motivation. At McKinley the strong prey on the weak out of boredom before anything else. They're a lot more persistent than others, but they lack the drive to become too vicious or cruel.  
  
So far as Blaine can tell, the average McKinley loser is more likely to get picked on because of an unfortunately noticeable article of clothing than sexual orientation. If you catch the herd's attention you're in for a rough day, simple as that. Knowing that doesn't make Kurt feel much better, who is still an easy mark even by these standards, and who still has to deal with words like "faggot" and "queer" tossed around all day regardless.  
  
"They're like magpies," Blaine comments one day after Kurt has just been subjected to yet another dumpster tossing. "They only go after you if you're wearing something that catches their eye."  
  
"I like my accessories to sparkle," Kurt says. "I refuse to compromise myself to make them happy."  
  
At the time Blaine admires Kurt for it, but that's before things had gotten so bad. Now it's like Karofsky has become so single-minded in his harassment that he sort of wishes Kurt would tone it down a little, just so Blaine doesn't have to be so scared for him. Even so, it's still a shock to him to see how things are ending up.  
  
It all comes to a head one day after school lets out. Blaine is a little late getting out of his math class as he tries to convince the teacher to accept his late assignment that didn't get finished thanks to his dad getting into one of his moods the night before. The halls aren't quite empty, but they've been pretty well cleared by the time he's on his way.   
  
He's in a rush to meet Kurt by their lockers because Kurt has taken it upon himself to arrange a coffee date with Mercedes and one of the guys from Dalton, who apparently Facebook stalked him, found footage of Mercedes belting Aretha, and has been over the moon about her ever since.  
  
"We have to arrange a supervised first meeting to determine if he's the good kind of show choir spy or the bad kind," Kurt says, like this is a legitimate explanation when it totally isn't.  
  
Blaine almost makes a comment about Kurt involving him in yet another mind-numbingly boring activity he has no interest in, but decides not to, just in case Kurt decides this means Blaine won't appreciate any future invitations. He's hoping that he's not too late to leave with them, so he doesn't pay much attention when he sees Karofsky tearing out of the locker room looking simultaneously angrier and sicker than Blaine's ever seen.  
  
It's only when Blaine rounds the corner to find an impatient and somewhat worried Mercedes but no Kurt that Blaine finds himself thinking back on Karofsky's panicked exit with a sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
"It's not like him to be so late," Mercedes says. "He'd text or something."  
  
"Hang on," Blaine says, backing away in the direction he's just come. "I might have an idea."  
  
He really,  _really_  hopes he's wrong, but when he opens the locker room door and peeks inside, Kurt is there, sitting on one of the benches with his head in his hands. He looks unkempt and it flies so completely in the face of everything Blaine associates with Kurt he almost forgets to say something. But then Kurt seems to sense someone is watching him and looks up, which kicks Blaine's brain back into gear.   
  
He slowly walks in, saying,  
  
"Kurt? What's going on? Did he do something to you?"  
  
Kurt stares at him blankly for a moment before he starts to laugh, but it's a hollow, disbelieving laugh and Blaine has to will himself to not visibly freak out just in case it makes things worse. He knows the look on Kurt's face right now and he doesn't know if he can handle seeing that poison infect Kurt.  
  
He crouches down in front of him and grabs one of Kurt's hands with his own. Kurt stares at it like he has no idea why Blaine would put it there.  
  
"What's going on?" Blaine asks again.  
  
"He kissed me," Kurt blurts.  
  
"What?" Blaine says dumbly, even though he knows this isn't surprising.  
  
"Karofsky," Kurt says a little wildly. "We were fighting with each other and I was yelling all these horrible things and he just...grabbed me."  
  
Blaine feels sick.  
  
"Did he do anything else?" he asks.  
  
"No," says Kurt, shakily. "Well, I mean, he moved in to kiss me again but I pushed him away and he took off."  
  
Blaine knows this at least should make him feel better, because a kiss is bad, but it could be a lot worse, but it's still all so  _wrong_. A kiss is just how things start and Blaine has  _seen_  the way Karofsky looks at Kurt. Dave is hungry for something – even now Blaine's not entirely sure what – but he  _does_  know that the guy has decided Kurt is where he is going to find what he's looking for, and now that he's acted on his impulses, he won't stop until he's forced to.  
  
Kurt seems to have recognized this too, on some level, because he's looking at Blaine in obvious terror and saying,  
  
"What do I do? Dave Karofsky just  _kissed_  me. He was bad enough before and this has changed absolutely everything. I already had no power in this mess and now I somehow have even less than before."  
  
"Except that as of right now, Karofsky thinks that you're the only one who knows that he's gay," Blaine hears himself say. "He probably wouldn't want that to get around, right?"  
  
Kurt still looks like he wants to cry, but he shakes his head resolutely.  
  
"No way," He says. "I don't care if it's Karofsky, I would never out someone before they're ready. I may not respect him, but I respect that fear he has one hundred percent."  
  
"Sometimes it would be easier to protect you if you weren't such a good person," Blaine comments, which earns him a startled glance and a smile. "Why don't we just try talking to him, then? I mean, I'll go with you so you don't have to be alone with the guy, but we can make sure he knows that his secret goes no farther than the three of us. Maybe a little bit of basic human decency will inspire him to try it himself."  
  
Blaine doesn't say what he's really hoping, that Karofsky will feel threatened by Blaine's presence. Karofsky forces a kiss on Kurt in the heat of the moment? Now Blaine knows his dirty little secret. If Karofsky does anything else, well, who knows who might find out about him in an effort to "help" poor Dave come to terms with his sexuality?  
  
Blaine gets why Kurt thinks it's important for a person to walk out of the closet instead of getting dragged out. He just doesn't get why Kurt thinks Karofsky counts as a person.  
  
"What if it doesn't work?" Kurt asks, interrupting Blaine's plotting. "What do I do if this happens again?"  
  
Blaine stands and extends a hand to Kurt, pulling him to his feet.  
  
"If it doesn't work,  _we_  will come up with a better plan. Don't let it get to you Kurt. It'll be fine. We can handle this."

***

The confrontation is a total wash, so far as Kurt is concerned. When approached with concern and understanding, Karofsky almost took their heads off. This made Blaine feel pretty good about the whole thing, though he tried not to let on.  
  
Kurt trusts Blaine implicitly and while Blaine knows that Kurt would never read anything manipulative or under-handed in Blaine's actions, Karofsky isn't so easily misled. When the big jock responds to their overture by focusing his anger on _Blaine_ , grabbing him and throwing him against the nearest hard surface, he's elated because as far as he's concerned that means the threat has been received loud and clear. Rather than taking it out on Kurt, Karofsky is turning on the person who is actively trying to scare him.  
  
Karofsky looks so disconcerted when he runs of Blaine is positive it worked and that Kurt's life will go back to normal, if it doesn't even get a little better and for a while that seems to be the case. Karofsky won't even make eye contact with either one of them and every time he passes them on the far side of the hall, Blaine can see more and more of the tension leaving Kurt's shoulders. Blaine has never felt prouder of himself, and seeing Kurt grow steadily happier makes him happier too. Even Tom has noticed.  
  
"What's gotten into you?" he asks one evening as he watches Blaine humming to himself as he gets his homework together for school the next morning.  
  
Blaine shrugs.  
  
"Just in a good mood, I guess."  
  
It's a good enough explanation for Tom, who just shakes his head and goes back to watching TV, which makes Blaine feel even better. Then over a little week later, something changes.  
  
At first he doesn't notice it, but one afternoon he suddenly realizes that he's the only one who's been talking. Even though Kurt is smiling and nodding his head to everything Blaine is saying, he hasn't contributed a single thing to the conversation.   
  
"Something wrong?" he asks.  
  
Kurt shakes himself a little.  
  
"Not at all," he says, far too brightly. "Sorry, I was just thinking about something else."  
  
"I know," Blaine says. "What were you thinking about?"  
  
Kurt shrugs.  
  
"Not important."  
  
Blaine lets it slide for the time being, but he starts watching a little closer. It's hard to catch at first. His plan to scare Karofsky has worked in that the guy has clued into who the real threat is, but all that means is he's become subtler and stealthier about when he goes after Kurt. It's not until one day in the cafeteria when Blaine happens to look up in time to see Karofsky  _wink_  at Kurt with an alarmingly predatory grin that he realizes how bad it's getting.  
  
While Mercedes continue to rail on about the newly appointed Principal Sue Sylvester's health movements, Blaine leans over and whispers,  
  
"What the hell was that?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt says, but he looks like he wants to cry.  
  
"Kurt," Blaine starts, but Kurt just holds up a hand.  
  
"Not now," he says. "Just...later. I'll tell you later. Please?"  
  
Blaine lets it go for the time being, but he's waiting for Kurt by his locker after school.  
  
"We're talking now," he says.  
  
"Fine," Kurt says. "But not here, okay? Let's at least go to my car or something."  
  
Once they're inside the Navigator, Kurt just rests his head against the wheel and closes his eyes. When it's clear he won't be saying anything willingly, Blaine prompts,  
  
"How long has this been going on?"  
  
"It just started again a few days ago," Kurt finally admits.   
  
"Jesus Kurt, why didn't you  _tell_  me?"  
  
Kurt's eyes are wet when he opens them again.  
  
"I didn't know what he'd do," he says. He pauses and takes a deep breath before adding, "He said he'd kill me, if I told anyone else about the kiss, and since then he's been finding more excuses to touch me, or grab me. Sometimes he just _looks_  and that's worse somehow."  
  
"It's sexual harassment," Blaine says flatly. "And unless we make it stop it'll only get worse."  
  
"We have to tell someone then," Kurt says, staring at Blaine uncertainly like he's looking for confirmation. "But who? Coach Sylvester? The police?"  
  
Blaine feels his insides lurch at the suggestion. He's never quite gotten over his aversion to police officers. He's not a stupid kid anymore; he knows the difference between a cop and a security guard now, after years of Tom holding him and whispering regret-fuelled explanations as Blaine cries into his shoulder, hating himself for feeling comforted by the closeness. But all of that still doesn't mean Blaine's ever let himself trust them.  
  
No matter what they  _didn't_  do when he was little, they're still the people who want to take him away from the only dad he can remember to put him into some horrible group home or juvenile detention centre like where Puck went, and Blaine knows he'll kill himself before he lets that happen. Just because the man wasn't a cop doesn't the cops care enough about him to stop something like that happening to him again. He needs someone to keep him safe just like Kurt needs someone to keep  _him_  safe. For Blaine that person is Tom and for now at least Blaine can be that person for Kurt.  
  
"No offense Kurt," he finally says. "But there isn't any proof that Karofsky's doing  _anything_  right now. It's your word versus his and even though everyone at school knows he's a bully, he's the one the police will listen to. He's a straight jock and you're the gay kid who likes to make trouble."  
  
"I make trouble?" Kurt says. "Since when?"  
  
"Since you decided to announce you were a gay teenager to a small conservative town where half the people still think homosexuals are just in it for the shock value."  
  
"And Coach Sylvester?" Kurt asks, even though the look on his face says he already knows the answer before Blaine has to give it.  
  
"I don't think the lady who throws students over desktops and runs people over with golf carts is going to care if your bullying is getting worse."  
  
"So what do I do?" Kurt asks again.  
  
"I don't know," Blaine admits. "But I'll think of something. I promise."  
  
***  
  
Blaine wants to fix everything for Kurt. He wants to make him happy and safe, but he's starting to worry that maybe he can't do it. He feels terrible at the thought of letting Kurt down, and he knows that if nothing happens Karofsky may not kill Kurt like he threatened, but lines  _will_  be crossed, and Kurt will end up irreparably hurt or changed. Blaine worries about it at night until he feels sick, but there seems to be nothing he can do. He has to keep his head down or Tom will kill  _him_ , for getting so involved if nothing else, and Karofsky is steadily cutting him out of the equation – only acting when he's not there, carefully avoiding any slip up that will leave evidence or ammunition Blaine can use against him.  
  
And then Kurt's dad gets engaged to Finn's mom, giving Kurt the opportunity to happily avoid his own problems by burying them in wedding planning, which is a nice enough distraction, but Blaine knows Karofsky hasn't eased up, and now the situation is more out of control than ever, because he barely even sees  _Kurt_  anymore. They have long conversations on the phone every night, but their talk is full of Kurt discussing cake toppers or floral arrangements, or Blaine patiently telling Kurt that you can't keep a dove alive by feeding it craft supplies.  
  
It comes as a relief the night Kurt calls not to talk about wedding details but to let him know that someone else has _finally_  noticed something.  
  
"Mr. Schuester?" He says. "Really? That's why I saw you going into his office earlier today?"  
  
He can't believe it. It's not that Blaine doesn't think the glee club coach isn't a nice and well-meaning man. He always smiles a hello to Blaine when he sees him in the halls, and Blaine has always gotten the impression that the teacher is one of the ones who genuinely cares about his students. It's just that he's also said hello to him while he was getting high behind the school with Brett in the middle of the afternoon as well, so hearing that  _he_  is first teacher to notice a serious problem is nothing less than shocking.  
  
"I know," Kurt says. "I couldn't believe it either, but he said he'd been seeing how bad everything was getting with Karofsky and that he wanted to help. We went to see Principal Sylvester."  
  
"What did she say?" Blaine asks.   
  
"That she couldn't do anything  _yet_ ," Kurt says. "I need more evidence. It doesn't really help right now, but who knows? The teachers are watching now, and if they see something, their word  _does_  count for more than a jock's."  
  
It's not just Mr. Schuester and the faculty who have started to clue in either, Blaine realizes. A few days after his conversation with Kurt, he's cornered in the hallway by Rachel Berry, who has never so much as spoken to him before, but is every bit as intense and vaguely crazy as Kurt has made her out to be.  
  
"I'm worried about Kurt," she says, the fires of psychotic conviction burning in her eyes. "You're his friend, why haven't you noticed how thin and unhappy he's gotten lately?"  
  
"I have," Blaine counters. "I've known for a long time. How come it's taken  _you_  so long to do something about it?"  
  
Rachel heaves the sigh of the extremely put-upon.  
  
"I have a lot of commitments, Blaine," she says, and he's a little surprised that she knows his name. "I am an active member of multiple after school clubs and other non-academic extracurriculars. It's complicated and tiring to juggle a personal life with what I hope will one day provide the groundwork of my successful and inspirational career. It's possible that a few things have slipped through the cracks recently, as my tap-slash-jazzercise class rescheduled it's Tuesday meet time in direct conflict with my Black Student Union meetings and frankly I don't like doing anything to make Black Student Union mad at me because as it is I do  _not_  feel welcomed when I walk into that room."  
  
"Didn't you have to sue the school to get into that club?" Blaine asks, remembering something Puck once told him.  
  
"I don't want to come across as harsh towards my fellow members, but sometimes they are  _very_  hung up on race issues," she says before bristling a little at the look Blaine is giving her. "I  _could_  be black, Blaine. Nobody knows. That is part of the joy and mystery surrounding my conception."  
  
She stops herself and gives her head a little shake before adding,  
  
"But that's not important right now. I'm here because Kurt needs our help."  
  
She pulls a sheet of paper out of the binder she's holding.  
  
"I've taken the liberty of drawing up a schedule for all of Kurt's friends so we can keep an eye out for him. We have to be vigilant to keep him safe. I've instructed the more athletic and socially accepted glee clubbers to keep an eye on Karofsky, but I also believe the good old-fashioned buddy system would be useful as well. You can see there is someone scheduled to be with Kurt every hour of the school day."  
  
"Yes," Blaine nods, reading over the paper. "And I'm not on this list."  
  
"No," Rachel admits. "In all honesty I don't think we'd require you at all, except now that we've attempted to implement our plan, I find I'm forcibly reminded about how strange Kurt can be sometimes about his compulsive need to be his own person."  
  
"He's started hiding from you guys, hasn't he?" Blaine says, trying not to show his amusement.  
  
"We can't figure out how he's doing it," Rachel says in exasperation. "But then I remembered he's always with you if he's not with us. I was hoping you would volunteer to officially look out for him when he rebels against my attempts to help him."  
  
"Rachel leave Blaine alone," comes a tired voice and Blaine looks up to see Kurt walking towards them. "For the last time, I'm not trying to run away from you guys. I am  _busy_ , and I can't wait for my babysitters to keep up with me, that's all."  
  
Rachel plainly isn't buying this, and she storms away in a huff as Kurt leans against a wall and rests his eyes.  
  
"It's sweet that they're trying," Blaine offers.  
  
"And unfortunately 'trying' is exactly the right word for it," Kurt says.  
  
***  
  
In the end it's Finn and not Blaine who really helps solve the problem for Kurt, when he makes Kurt tell his father about the extent of the bullying. Blaine's surprised that Burt doesn't respond by telling Kurt to learn to fight his own battles, which is what Tom would have done, but instead marches into the principal's office complaining about harassment and death threats, and doesn't leave until Karofsky is expelled. According to Kurt, he didn't even have to fight that hard before Sylvester enthusiastically went along with Burt's suggestion.  
  
"I know that everyone says I'm one of her favourites," Kurt says. "And I guess they're right, it's just that I always think that will hurt matters more than it will help."  
  
Blaine's glad Kurt was wrong, and he's pretty impressed with Principal Sylvester besides. He's never viewed authority figures as particularly helpful in the first place and the ones at McKinley look especially incompetent to him. He can't believe they fixed this for Kurt.  
  
A part of him keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never seems to happen. Not only is Kurt happier in his new Karofsky-free environment, the bullying at McKinley has dropped off considerably, at least so far as the glee club is concerned. No one outside of Blaine and New Directions knows the real reason behind Karofsky's expulsion; the only thing the student body knows for sure is that the biggest losers at McKinley were behind it somehow.  
  
The rumours come thick and fast. Blaine hears all sorts of things being whispered in the hallways. He texts Kurt some of the better ones when the teachers aren't watching:  
  
 _Blaine: Sent: 1:33 PM  
Some1 said your dad bought sue a hovercraft and her bodyweight in wheat germ.  
  
Blaine: Sent: 1:36 PM  
Correction: Now it is mr. schue who bought the wheat germ, but it's not wheat germ it is protein powder.  
  
Blaine: Sent: 2:42 PM  
Puck fell in with a crime syndicate in juvie and paid to have him killed.  
  
Blaine: Sent: 2:43 PM  
He's in witness protection now btw  
  
Blaine: Sent: 3:01 PM  
Didn't catch all of it but something about Santana and razor blades??_  
  
All of Kurt's friends seem to be in better moods as well. The combined euphoria of helping Kurt and getting to try their hand at wedding singing has apparently weakened their reservations towards him and they become much friendlier. Finn smiles and waves hello to him in the halls whenever their paths cross and Mercedes actually invites him to her house one evening, explaining a little shyly that she wants to make Kurt take a night off from wedding arrangements before he kills himself. Kurt is losing his mind a little bit about this wedding.  
  
Blaine thinks it's pretty hilarious and kind of nice for Kurt to be so excited for his dad, but most of the time he's pretty sure half of Kurt's excitement is just coming from a deep-seated desire to test run ideas for his own special day. Sometimes Blaine thinks he even forgets whose wedding it is.  
  
"But why won't you come?" Kurt demands one evening. "I've got a space for you at one of the tables and everything."  
  
Blaine laughs at him.  
  
"It's your dad's day," he says. "I really don't think he wants to spend it looking at me."  
  
"He wouldn't even notice you're there," Kurt protests, no longer trying to deny Burt's disdain for his newest friend. "Besides, Carole  _loves_  you."  
  
"Carole loves  _you_ ," Blaine corrects. "She puts up with me because she thinks it's healthy for you to expand your circle of friends."  
  
The easygoing squabbling between the two of them carries on right up until the day of the wedding, but in the end it's Blaine who wins out. He spends the day looking after his hung over father, who had come home late the night before, too drunk to even fuck, angrily yelling at Blaine and eventually throwing him out of his own bedroom.  
  
"Every day you get worse," he says. "You used to be such a cute kid, Blaine. What the hell happened?"  
  
Nights like this are becoming more and more frequent now, and Tom is looking less and less embarrassed about them the mornings after. Blaine tries not to worry about it and tells himself that it's just a problem at work that will pass eventually. He only lets the nagging fears creep into his mind late at night when he can't sleep.  
  
This is all he has in the world. He's never tried to pretend that his dad is a good man, but he took Blaine in when his real father wanted nothing to do with him and no one else would even look twice at him. Sometimes Blaine worries that if even Tom doesn't want him, he'll be destined to be alone forever.  
  
***  
  
"They're letting him come back."  
  
Blaine looks up from his locker to see Kurt, standing in front of him with his arms wrapped around his torso, looking like he can't decide if he wants to throw up or cry. Blaine doesn't have to ask who Kurt is talking about.  
  
"Who's letting him?" he demands, slamming his locker closed.  
  
"The school board," Kurt says through gritted teeth. "They say there's not enough proof. I got so scared when they told me I almost told them everything but..."  
  
"But it's still your word against his," Blaine finishes. "And he's popular and you're not."  
  
"He won," Kurt shrugs, going for indifference and failing miserably. "And he's going to be  _so mad_  when he gets back."  
  
"Isn't there anything  _anyone_  can do?" Blaine asks a little desperately. Everything's falling apart, first at home and now here.  
  
"Coach Sylvester can't even stop it," Kurt says. "And she's the scariest person I know. She resigned from her position as principal over it and it didn't change a single thing."  
  
"What did Burt and Carole say?" Blaine asks.  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes a little.  
  
"They told me they would give up their honeymoon money so I could enrol at Dalton. As if I'd let them."  
  
Blaine  _should_  say, "Good."  
  
He  _should_  say, "Yeah, that would be a little extreme."  
  
He  _should_  say, "There must be other options."  
  
What he  _does_  say is, "Maybe that's not such a bad idea."  
  
His lungs start to ache like he's trapped under water. Kurt is looking at him in disbelief.  
  
"I can't let them give this up for me," he says. "It wouldn't just be a downgraded vacation, Blaine. It would be giving up the whole thing and then some. They'd even have to work extra hours to cover the difference. With hospital bills, and the wedding, and now the new house they just made an offer on? There's no way. I can't do that to them."  
  
"What if you didn't have to make them do anything and you could still get out of here?" Blaine asks.  
  
He feels like he's standing over a pit and letting go of the one handhold he's been gripping to.  
  
"Kurt, you're a smart guy. There's no way you wouldn't be eligible for some of those scholarships you were telling me about before. You should talk to your dad about it."  
  
"But what about you?" Kurt asks, and his voice is quiet. "What about all my friends here? We won't even be eligible for sectionals if I don't perform with them."  
  
"Do you really think they'll hold that against you?" Blaine asks. "Your friends love you, Kurt. They just want you to be happy, even if that means they may end up losing. Even Rachel."  
  
Kurt smiles a little at that.  
  
"I'd miss you guys," he says.  
  
"We'd miss you too," Blaine says, smiling back even though all he can think is how wrong this is. "But it's not like we'd never see each other, or talk. Come on, do you think Mercedes would let you get away like that? And you  _live_  with Finn now."  
  
" _We'd_  still talk right?" Kurt says.  
  
"Probably," Blaine says. "You're number one on my speed dial and I really hate reprogramming those."  
  
Kurt laughs. Blaine feels like he's falling apart from the inside.  
  
***  
  
He gets a phone call from Mercedes that night. It's the first time she's ever called him. She sounds like she's been crying.  
  
"Has anything happened?" Blaine asks, a little alarmed. He can't imagine why Mercedes would ever bother calling him unless it was to tell him Kurt had, like, fallen into a well or something.  
  
"Yep," she says, in a subdued voice. "My best friend got chased out of his own school. It's been a pretty awful day."  
  
"It has," Blaine agrees.  
  
"Look," Mercedes says. "I just wanted to call to say thank you. I talked to Kurt for a really long time tonight. Like  _really_ talked, the way we used to. He told me that you're the one who convinced him to go to Dalton. That was the right thing to do."  
  
"It doesn't feel like it," Blaine says. "Nothing about this is right."  
  
Mercedes makes a sound of agreement before suddenly saying,  
  
"I'm sorry, Blaine."  
  
"For what?" he asks, confused.  
  
"For being so hard on you," she says. "Kurt means a lot to me and sometimes I just get so scared for him. I used to talk to him about it, but lately? It's like there's a wall where it used to be just us and I know I helped put it there, but it's so hard to tear down. So I try to watch out for him without talking to him about what he needs, but it's not enough. I saw you talking to him like I couldn't anymore and I let myself believe you were what was standing between us. It was never you and I'm sorry. You were there for him when I wasn't and I needed to tell you."  
  
"Thanks," Blaine says.   
  
"Maybe we can all hang out sometime?" she suggests. "I have a car now – maybe we can drive to Westerville and visit him."  
  
"That would be nice," Blaine says. "It would be interesting to see what a school in Ohio is like where teachers  _stop_ bullying."  
  
Mercedes snorts.  
  
"At least our teachers tried in the end," she says. "I guess that almost counts for something. It's more than the school board did."  
  
"I have to say," says Blaine. "I never thought Mr. Schuester would be the first one to try and stop it. He's always so..."  
  
"Out of touch?" Mercedes supplies. "Yeah, but he  _does_  care about us. That counts for a lot. And he always tries to help when he figures out there's a problem. Sometimes he just needs someone to do the noticing for him."  
  
It takes Blaine a minute and then he starts to grin.  
  
"You're a better friend than you think you are, Mercedes."


	4. Part 4

All things considered, Kurt shipping himself off to Westerville could have turned out a lot worse for Blaine. He's by no means happy about the development, but if nothing else it helps Blaine to see that he's not as alone in this town as he once thought he was.  
  
Even with Kurt hours away from him, they still talk to each other most nights on the phone. Kurt is having a little trouble adapting to a life of uniforms and conformity, and he's not sure what to make of the stuffy atmosphere that is Dalton Academy.  
  
"Even their glee club is a lot more restrictive than I thought it would be," He admits one evening. "The first time I saw them all I knew was that they sang fun, happy songs, and that it made them the coolest kids in the school. Now that I'm here it's a little horrifying to see how very...Rachel Berry they are about what they do."  
  
Kurt is not even a bona fide performing member of the club yet, at least not officially. He is fortunate enough to have bonded with two of the three council members of the Warblers, which means that they were willing to bend the rules for him when arrived at the school mid-semester.  
  
"Normally it's against their policy to let someone join the group so close to a major competition," he says. "They made an exception for me. I had to audition to prove I could carry my weight, but I won't be performing for sectionals. Even if I were I'd just be swaying in the background anyhow. It's not like I'm headlining at the Met."  
  
"He hates it," Blaine observes to Mercedes the next day while they're comparing notes. "He's trying to keep an open mind about everything, but he can't handle private school diplomacy after all the time he's spent with you guys and your constant anarchies."  
  
"We're only like that when we need a break from Rachel solos or Mr. Schue's 80s catalogue," Mercedes says. "But you have a point. I was telling him about our latest Rachel Rebellion and he sounded so homesick."  
  
They make their first of many trips down to Westerville that week, spending many hours helping Kurt decorate his dorm room when they ought to be doing homework. Blaine is surprised by how much fun it is to be around Mercedes. She is a constant stream of chatter and gossip, full of information that shocks Blaine in its triviality and inanity. It is shallow and pointless and almost white noise, but it is also fun. Mercedes has really let her guard down now that Kurt is no longer there to fuss over, and Blaine is starting to see why Kurt values her friendship. He knows that their friendship is based on a lot more than Mercedes' superficial qualities, but he's secretly glad she's not so close to him, because he loves how uncomplicated his world becomes when he talks to her. Some people watch TV and go to the movies to escape their lives, some people read, and others write bad poetry. Blaine just has to take a drive with Mercedes out to Westerville.  
  
She's not the only member of New Directions he gets closer to, either. He maintains his pseudo-friendships with Artie and Puck, even after he flat out refuses Puck's invitations, pleas, demands, and eventual threats to join glee club in Kurt's place, and he continues to talk with Brittany and Santana, who seem to like hanging out with him at parties.  
  
"You're the best boy," Brittany tells him one day. "All the others just want to make out, or trick me into flashing my boobs. You let us play with your hair and talk about important issues. You're the best."  
  
Blaine loves that Brittany thinks "important issues" are things like which My Little Pony is the most likely to kill a dwarf, or whether her hair accessories have feelings. He could genuinely listen to her talk forever and never get tired of it. He suspects that Santana loves listening to her best friend's chatter as much as he does, if not more so, and she seems to be happy to extend her seal of approval to anyone who doesn't look at Brittany like she's brain damaged.  
  
While these friendships are nice, they're not too surprising, since he was on speaking terms with most of these people anyhow. More unexpected are the conversations he starts having with Kurt's eventual New Directions replacement Lauren Zizes and Rachel Berry. They are, apparently, the weirdest people Blaine has ever met, and Blaine now knows a girl who thinks that diabetes is a superpower, so that's saying something.  
  
The thing with Lauren starts out when she stomps her way over to him one day during a study period and barks,  
  
"Brenner, Imma kick your ass for ruining my AV cred, you jackass."  
  
"Excuse me?" Blaine says.  
  
"What's wrong with singing and dancing?" She demands. "Doesn't  _everyone_  love singing and dancing? Why do you think you're better than the little people?"  
  
"I...don't know what you're talking about," Blaine finally says, trying to stay out of swinging distance but not sure he succeeds, since he's heard Lauren has a crazy long reach.  
  
"Don't play dumb with me, Brenner," she says. "I've heard all about how you thought you were too good for glee club, even though your little friend with the chick voice lived for it. Now you've just abandoned them in their hour of need? The one thing Kurt truly loved about McKinley High? That's low, Brenner. You've really let everyone down."  
  
"But...I thought you were the replacement for Kurt?" Blaine asks, uncertainly. He tries to subtly look around to see if there is anyone around who might be interested in helping him. Not a single person is looking their direction, the dirty cowards.  
  
"Yeah, I am," Lauren spits. "Maybe you don't understand. I run AV Club, Brenner. Having to join the glee club is like holding an assembly to announce that I have a sex with clowns fetish. Like, actual mimes who act out orgasms instead of having them. It's humiliating, and as president of one of the most feared clubs in school, I feel I deserve better."  
  
"Then why did you join?" Blaine can sense he is playing with fire here, but he doesn't know what else to say.  
  
"Because Puckerman made out with me," Lauren explodes and okay, wow. "He's like a little mohawked lapdog just waiting for someone to tell him what to do, and it just so happens that literally leading a jock through the halls of a school by a leash is, like, number two on my bucket list."  
  
"So it sounds like this may end well for you," Blaine says, and he wonders why he's not more surprised that Puck has decided to fall for Lauren. "Why are you mad at me?"  
  
"Jock or not, I'm still stuck in glee club," Lauren says. "And it's either because you suck or it's because I suck. Out of the two options which do you think is more likely?"  
  
Blaine acquiesces, and before he knows it, every time he sees her in the halls, he gets another update on the worst thing about glee club.  
  
"You suck because they hook up with each other more than a fish tank full of inbred guppies."  
  
"You suck because Finn can't dance and breathes through his mouth."  
  
"You suck because Sam's bad dye job isn't fooling anyone."  
  
"You suck because today Rachel and Artie thought they could do a successful cover of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' and my ears are still  _bleeding_."  
  
And so it goes. Blaine starts to look forward to her angry attacks, as much as she seems to look forward to giving them. Especially when the tone starts to change.  
  
"You suck because Puck thinks Queen is a legitimate way to tell a girl like me that he likes her."  
  
"You suck because I suddenly care about singing in front of these rejects when we both know from a social standpoint I'd be better off trying to look cool to the janitor."  
  
"You suck because this was never supposed to be so much fun."  
  
Still, for as strange and unexpected as Lauren's interaction with him is, Rachel Berry's is downright bizarre. When he mentions it to Mercedes, she only rolls her eyes and says,  
  
"Yeah. She's been a little lost without Kurt around. I don't think she ever really realized how much their fighting meant to her. I think she's trying to audition new people to fill the void."  
  
Lost really is a good word to describe it. It's not that Rachel has become sad, or angry, or even argumentative; she's just become nervous and, well, clingy. He had no idea that she invested so much of her energy into trying to tell Kurt how to live his life, and he gets the impression she didn't either. Unfortunately Rachel rallies rather quickly and decides to fill this gap by trying to boss someone else around, namely him.  
  
It's not that he hates Rachel or anything – he actually finds her entertaining in a train wreck kind of way – but being the focus of Rachel's determined energy is nothing short of exhausting. He understands why Kurt would sometimes stare listlessly off into space for hours after glee meetings where he would fight with Rachel about song selection, costume details, choreography, and which Barbra musical was the best.  
  
When Rachel sets her sights on making your life more acceptable to her standards you give up peace and quiet and alone time. Blaine has actually taken to hiding from her in the hallways. So far it hasn't worked.  
  
Rachel's main point of concern seems to be Blaine's singing, or rather his lack thereof.  
  
"You can't hide the truth from me any longer, Blaine Brenner," She says, her brow furrowed in complete determination. "Brittany and Puck have both told me they've heard you sing and they both say you are very competent at it. Not joining glee club simply isn't an option for you."  
  
"Rachel," Blaine says, as calmly and firmly as he can. "Like I've told you the last ten times, I don't want to sing in front of people. It's not my thing. I don't like being the centre of attention alright?"  
  
"But you won't be!" Rachel says happily, like she's won something. "Everyone knows that  _I'm_  the centre of attention in glee club. We'd be more than happy to let you stand in the back harmonizing. In fact I think it's safe to say we'd prefer it."  
  
"No Rachel."  
  
"But – "  
  
" _No_."  
  
Blaine supposes he should be flattered. In a way he sort of is. He'll never sing with her, but it's nice to know that for whatever reason she cares enough about him (or at least Kurt) to make the effort, however psychotically terrifying said effort might be.  
  
So far as Kurt's new friends go, Blaine supposes they're nice enough, too. He's a little surprised that Kurt likens them to Rachel at all, since they seem for the most part relaxed and laid back guys. Well, maybe Wes is a little serious, but still very friendly.  
  
"They're different when it's about the Warblers," Kurt explains one day over Skype not long after Blaine has met them during one of his trips to Westerville with Mercedes. Blaine doesn't understand what this means until he meets up with Kurt to go out for coffee a few weeks after the Warblers lost out to New Directions at Sectionals and Wes and David are tagging along with him.  
  
Wes and David are looking more serious than Blaine has ever seen them, and Kurt looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh.  
  
"What's going on?" Blaine asks.   
  
"The council is worried about the future of the Warblers," Kurt says, dryly. "Apparently we have no focus."  
  
"It's not a laughing matter, Kurt," David says in disapproval, and he suddenly sounds like he's giving a high-level job interview, formal and severe. "The Dalton Academy Warblers traditionally have always shone brightest using the strategy of an elected senate operating behind the powerful charisma of a popular figure head."  
  
"What?" Blaine whispers to Kurt.  
  
"They can't find the right lead singer," Kurt clarifies.  
  
"Oh," Blaine says. "Well, do you guys really need one? I mean, New Directions share solos all the time and it works fine for them."  
  
Wes smiles a little tightly at Blaine before saying,  
  
"I don't suppose we should talk about this at all without councilmember Thad here as well, and certainly not in front of a civilian. Maybe we should take this up later, Kurt? I think I remember the things we've discussed well enough to commit them to shorthand so Councilmember Thad can look through them before the next meeting."  
  
Blaine wonders what happened to the guys he found laughing themselves sick in Kurt's dorm room two weeks ago, watching a video of a monkey masturbating in front of a class of kindergarteners. Kurt is giving him an "I told you so" look. Still, Blaine is really growing fond of Kurt's two new friends, quirks and all. He may not like sharing Kurt, but both boys seem to be really invested in making Kurt feel welcome, and Blaine appreciates the way they look out for him, since he isn't there to do it himself anymore.  
  
Between trips up to Dalton, and parties, and a host of fictitious after-school commitments, Blaine is away from home as much as he had been before Kurt left, if not a little more. In some ways it's a relief, being away from Tom that often, but in other ways it makes things harder for him too. Tom has gotten so ambivalent to Blaine's presence at home that he doesn't even get worked up if Blaine is gone for the night without calling him. One time Blaine didn't go home for 4 days, choosing to go to one house party after another instead. When he gets in, he's pretty sure his dad didn't even notice he was gone.  
  
Sometimes Blaine thinks back to October, when Tom thought Blaine was thinking of running and beat Blaine until he was sobbing to make sure he didn't try anything. Now Blaine doesn't know if Tom would even notice if he did leave. Everything is changing so much and so quickly that Blaine sometimes wonders if maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe Tom has had enough and doesn't want to be bothered anymore. The days when Blaine lets himself think this way are the days he goes back home. Sometimes he even finds himself initiating the sex, if it doesn't seem like Tom is interested. He hates himself for it so much, but he doesn't know what he'll do if his dad stops caring.  
  
***  
  
It starts with dreams. At first, they're so innocuous that Blaine doesn't even realize he's having them, or what they mean when he remembers them. He will chalk it up to something he ate or watched on TV, or a particularly bad night with his Dad. He actually likes the dreams initially. They make him feel happy and safe. To be honest, they make him feel the way he always feels when he's with Kurt.  
  
He's never really dreamt about a person before, at least not vividly. Sometimes he has nightmares about his first year living with Tom that are so terrifying there was a period of time they made him wet the bed, something which disgusted him and infuriated Tom. They're the strangest dreams Blaine has ever had, and he would be hard-pressed to explain why they are scary, or even how he can tell what they're about.   
  
They're a larger than life canvas that Blaine is trapped inside of, covered in dark oppressive browns and reds, that suck the light away from Blaine before it can touch him. They're angry violent bursts of rust and copper, that smell like fear and blood and leave Blaine screaming. They swim and dance in front of him as his body relives the past, moment by moment, nothing forgotten but everything hidden behind the canvas, like he's being attacked by invisible monsters. Now one reaches out and grabs hold of his leg, and there is deep, bilious brown leaping out and clawing at him. Now another one is pulling him down under its weight and everything hurts so bad he's scared to breathe. Pulsing black-red.  
  
Ms. Pillsbury, the guidance counsellor at McKinley told him once that people only dream in black and white. She had been trying to get him to come to an epiphany about why he felt the need to "smoke doobies" at his former school. He was still smoking at this school, of course but no one seemed to have noticed. He thought about the browns and reds after he left her office and wondered if his dreams would be better or worse in pitch black. He still can't decide.  
  
Other times he dreams about his real parents, his first parents. He can't see their faces anymore, waking or sleeping, only a blank space where there should be features, and their voices are inarticulate and fuzzy, like he's hearing them through water. Still, sometimes he dreams that he feels his father's hand in his, leading him through a crowded hallway, senses a big presence looking back at him to make sure he's keeping up.  
  
Sometimes he dreams about his mother kissing him on the forehead at bedtime, or her arms around him and the smell of her when she would stop to give him a hug. Sometimes he is sitting outside a room listening to her cry, and when he looks inside her head is buried in his father's shoulder as he gently strokes her hair and murmurs soft sounds into her ear. She's crying because she just found out her father died. Blaine doesn't know why he still remembers this. How he can remember the sound of tears and the reason behind them when he can't even remember what her smile looked like.  
  
Blaine hates dreams about them more than the ones about Tom and the colours. The colours are nothing more than pain and sensory overload. They're horrible, but they don't matter either. The more Blaine dreams about his parents the further away from him they slip. He remembers that they didn't always used to be so hazy, but every time he looks at them and tries to ask them a real question, to break away from the memory and actually reach them, they always pull away, shaking their heads and floating backwards like ghosts as he runs to catch up to them, even though he knows he never will. And the next time he dreams, he's forgotten how his father used to crinkle his nose up when he'd laugh, or how his mother tilted her head when she was answering the phone. Like his unwillingness to let them go is slowly breaking apart what he has left into pieces.  
  
When he starts to dream about Kurt, it's something new. Nothing bad touches him in a dream that has Kurt in it. When he dreams about Kurt, there is literally no one else in the world. His dad never was and there are no parents to forget and be forgotten by. It's just him and Kurt, walking in a park, or helping each other with their homework in oddly empty classrooms.  
  
Blaine wakes up after the nights he dreams about Kurt feeling happy, which is his first tip off that he's dreaming about something new in the first place. He's never woken up smiling before. His first instinct the first time it happens is a full out panic attack as he tries to sift through the memories of his dreams the previous night and remember what made him feel this way. He has the soul-shattering feeling that he must have been dreaming about his parents, only it was the kind of dream he always wants to have about them and never gets, where he remembers something new or they say something to the Blaine that is here  _now_  instead of the memory that they knew. Maybe they apologised and told him how sorry they were and he'll never remember it. He knows it's stupid, that a dream is just a dream, but Blaine can't help it. It matters to him  _so much_.  
  
His anxiety about the dream lasts until he's halfway to school and his thoughts are interrupted by a text message from Kurt:  
  
 _Kurt: Sent 7:48 AM  
Ugh. Some mornings I want to throw this stupid blazer out the window. The same thing day after day after day and all this retina-searing red piping? I feel like a sad clown._  
  
Blaine laughs as he leans against the nearest tree to type an answer, deciding his teachers will be able to handle it if he's a few minutes late.  
  
 _Blaine: Sent 7:51 AM  
You've sent me pictures, Kurt. I know you don't look like a sad clown in your blazer. You look dapper. I promise. If it was ME in it, though..._  
  
Kurt's response is quick, and Blaine can almost hear the high soft laugh accompanying the words.  
  
 _Kurt: Sent 7:52 AM  
Only because of your white boy afro. You'd look like Ronald McDonald's bastard brother.  
  
Blaine: Sent 7:53 AM  
Why do I have 2 b the bastard? HE'S the one with red hair.  
  
Kurt: Sent: 7:55 AM  
It works differently in clown families, Blaine. Doesn't your brother tell you anything?_  
  
They text back and forth a while longer. Blaine is 15 minutes late but not too bothered by it. It doesn't even occur to him until well into his 3rd period that his mind has been too full of Kurt to worry about a single thing, ever since that first text came in.  
  
***  
  
The first time he remembers a Kurt Dream (as he's started to mentally refer to them), they're talking on the phone and Blaine can hear him smiling as he tells a joke. Then suddenly he's in the house with Blaine, and the house is so full of everything Kurt that there's no room for Tom inside of it anymore.   
  
It's not like Kurt somehow muscles his dad out the door, or stands up to him and demands that he get out and stay out. It's only that when Kurt magically shows up in the living room midsentence, no longer on the phone but right in front of him, Kurt is the only thing that matters. He doesn't care about Tom, doesn't even think about him. He's not jumpy at the idea of being in his dad's space without knowing where his dad is, because it's not his dad's space anymore. It's like his dad was never there at all. All there is is Kurt, talking about his day and explaining why Wes has a memorial set up in the common area with Charles Lindbergh at the centre.  
  
Blaine wakes up and for a fraction of a second, Kurt is still there with him, pushing away reality and making him forget where he is. It's not exactly a good feeling when he hears his dad yelling at him to get a move on before he's late again, but Blaine finds himself thinking back to how amazing he felt for that one moment throughout the rest of the day, and somehow everything seems better. He doesn't even care when Puck tells him how creepy he looks with a smile on his face when they're getting high at the far corner of the school grounds together. He just smiles harder and flips Puck off, lazily, and the grin Puck shoots at him proves that Puck's not that disturbed by it at all.  
  
***  
  
Looking back on it, Blaine is kind of an idiot. Anyone with half a brain should have been able to sort out what's starting to happen, what's probably been happening ever since he first laid eyes on Kurt Hummel, but Blaine's always been stupid about his feelings. He finds his life is easier to deal with if he doesn't spend too much time analyzing how every little thing makes him feel and usually that works well for him, but not on this particular morning, when the reality of his emotions all come crashing down on him at once, causing a physical jolt of fear that feels something like pain surging through his body.  
  
He's woken up with an erection.  
  
The weird thing is, the only part of the dream Blaine can remember are the last few moments, so he doesn't exactly know what it is his mind came up with for him and Kurt to do, but he knows that on some level there has to have been sex, because what he does remember is so vivid he can't pretend there was anything else that could have been happening.  
  
They're lying down on a bed, somewhere outside – illogical settings never matter much in dreams, so neither of them are questioning it. They're also naked, with the covers off. Kurt is looking at him, not exactly like he wants to throw Blaine back on the bed and have his way with him or anything, but like he's cataloguing every part of Blaine, memorizing it in that lazy way that suggests that he's not in a hurry to get anything started because they've already finished. Blaine feels tired and completely relaxed, rolled into Kurt's side and halfway dozing with his head on Kurt's chest as he looks up at the stars.  
  
Normally Blaine can't handle being naked. His dad sometimes takes his clothes as a form of punishment, and will make Blaine stand against the wall as he just stares at him until Blaine breaks down, slapping Blaine hard if Blaine tries to look anywhere but into Tom's eyes. His dad says it's a sign of how much Blaine still needs him, of how emotionally stunted Blaine is, that even now all it takes for Blaine to completely lose his composure and self-respect is a few minutes in a room with another person without the comfort of a pair of underwear.  
  
"It just proves how much you need me, Blaine," He always tells him. "You're pathetic. You do what I tell you because without me you're too weak to survive in the real world. You need me and you will obey me."  
  
Blaine will nod, or gasp out a yes, or sometimes even get down on his hands and knees and crawl over to Tom begging, if he's been standing there long enough. Anything to get Tom to agree that he doesn't have to be on display anymore.  
  
But in his dream, everything is different. Instead of curling up into a tight little ball and trying to forget there's someone else in the bed with him, Blaine almost feels drunk with satisfaction, and he finds he's wishing that he could somehow get closer to Kurt, even though he's still sprawled out on top of him. He feels connected and doesn't want that feeling to fade.  
  
"You're amazing," Kurt is telling him. "I love you."  
  
He pauses a minute before smiling and adding,  
  
"I love saying that."  
  
Blaine smiles back at him.  
  
"I love you too," he says. "I love this."  
  
They're silent again as Blaine looks back up at the stars. After a minute Kurt laughs a little and asks,  
  
"Do you know where Ursa Major is?"  
  
Blaine does, pointing it out and murmuring, "Dad showed me," even though that's not true. Blaine is certain Tom couldn't care less about the constellations and their names.  
  
It doesn't matter though, because Kurt is chuckling and as he reaches out to grab hold of Blaine's pointing hand and wind their fingers together, and he starts to tell Blaine the story of when his dad tried to take him camping in the 5th grade so they could bond.  
  
"Everyone at the shop was joking about it when they didn't think I was listening," he says. "They thought we wouldn't last a night. There was a betting pool and everything."  
  
"What happened?" Blaine asks, even though he knows. He's heard this story a hundred times. He could hear it a hundred more.  
  
"We didn't last a single night," Kurt laughs. "Dad couldn't catch any fish and I wouldn't let him kill mine. Then he burnt the hell out of the wieners and beans, threw his back out trying to pitch the tent, and forgot to hang the leftovers from the tree because even though we wouldn't touch them, the bears weren't as picky."  
  
He's just getting to the part where he lectures his father's employees about wildlife safety in front of an embarrassed Burt when the alarm rings, and suddenly life is a lot more complicated.  
  
***  
  
It's time for some serious damage control, Blaine decides. He's not entirely sure what exactly that is going to entail, but figures not checking 10 times to see if Kurt's texted him before breakfast is definitely a good way to start. Avoidance quickly becomes the watchword.  
  
As it turns out, Blaine is exceptionally good at pretending Kurt doesn't exist. He acts like he can't hear the steady stream of beeping coming from his phone over the next few days, as he steadfastly pretends that there are no text messages coming to him from a boy he's started to have wet dreams about. Because there is no boy like that in Blaine's life, thanks very much. When the sounds slow down to a trickle before completely stopping a few days later, he resolutely does not think about whether the non-existent boy sending them is scared, or angry, or confused, or if he simply has decided he doesn't care anymore. That Blaine isn't worth the bother. And even if Kurt  _doesn't_  care now, okay, because Blaine doesn't care either. Things are better this way.  
  
Because really, Blaine won't live in Lima, Ohio forever. He and Tom could pack up and take off at a moment's notice. They've already been there longer than normal, because Tom doesn't want to leave his job at the plant. But that won't last forever, because God knows Tom has never been good at settling down in one place, no matter how well he's being paid. For Blaine to get so attached to another person is a terrible idea, and it won't end well for either of them, so when you come right down to it, Blaine is doing both himself and Kurt a favour.  
  
That sort of thinking helps Blaine believe he's doing the right thing, but it certainly doesn't make doing it any easier. He still can't control what he dreams about, after all. No amount of pretending Kurt is a figment of his imagination can change what his brain decides to do with that figment when he goes to sleep at night. In fact, it's almost like his brain is punishing him for trying to force Kurt out of it while he's awake, and his near mindless terror over falling for a guy doesn't seem to be helping things, either.  
  
It's not that Blaine's ever found girls especially attractive before now. In fact he's never really looked at anyone  _that way_ at all. He's just always assumed that when he did start to pay more attention, that attention would be directed to the opposite sex. Honestly that would be bad enough, but falling for Kurt also carries an undertone of something dirty and wrong with it.  
  
He has trouble articulating what this undertone is until the night we wakes up from yet another dream in which he found himself languidly kissing the other boy like they had all the time in the world. In the other room, his father's room, he can hear the sounds of a TV softly playing. It makes him feel ill. Kurt has no place in Blaine's life. Kurt is good and innocent. There's no room for him in this house, not unless Blaine is willing to destroy what makes Kurt so perfect and rob him of that innocence, something he refuses to do.  
  
Still, he supposes a sort of withdrawal period is only to be expected. Up until a few days ago, Blaine has been perfectly happy to set Kurt up as the centre of his life, so when he pushes Kurt back out, of course it's going to feel like something is missing.  
  
Apparently Kurt is feeling that lack too, in spite of the absence of any new text messages, and Blaine soon realizes that Kurt hasn't given up so much as he's changed tactics. It's interesting to Blaine to see how many people still have Kurt's back at McKinley, even though he doesn't go there anymore. There are a lot of people who still care about him and his happiness, some of whom would be as surprising to Kurt as they are to Blaine, Blaine is certain. He almost finds it unfortunate that he can't tell Kurt about some of the random people who are trying to defend his honour at being inexplicably dumped by one of his closest friends. The weirdest one is easily Brett the stoner of all people, who turns to him abruptly behind the school one day and says,  
  
"Dude, are you, like,  _mad_  at that gay kid?"  
  
Some days Blaine isn't convinced Brett even knows what school he's attending, so hearing these words come out of his mouth automatically makes him suspicious.  
  
"What are you talking about?" He asks.  
  
"That skinny gay kid, dude," Brett says, squinting like that will somehow help him remember. "He's, like, skinny and sounds like a girl? He's lost it, man. I think it's your fault, too."  
  
"How do you even know this? You can't even remember his name," Blaine demands, glancing around, trying to see who put Brett up to this.  
  
Instead, Brett gives him a look that Blaine can only describe as honest-to-god  _hurt_  before he says,  
  
"Hey, we're friends. What, do you think he's better than me or something?"  
  
Blaine deflates a little and backs down.  
  
"Sorry," he says. "I guess I just didn't know you two talked."  
  
Brett isn't paying attention any more though, as he squints off into the distance.  
  
"I mean," he says. "I  _think_  we're friends. He called my house, so he's gotta be, right?"  
  
"Why did he phone you?" Blaine wonders.  
  
"Wanted to talk to you," Brett shrugs. "He thought you might be there. You weren't though. I checked."  
  
A little later the same day, Blaine is cornered by Puck and Finn. This isn't too strange, and he supposes they would have gotten to him before Brett did if Blaine had actually bothered to go inside the school that day.  
  
"Why are you mad at Kurt?" Finn demands, marching angrily up to Blaine as he waits for a bus, wondering where he'll go for the evening.  
  
"Hi Finn," Blaine says sarcastically. "Nice to see you, too."  
  
"Answer the question, Brenner," Puck says, looking as angry as Finn does and substantially more intimidating. "What's your problem?"  
  
"I don't have a problem," Blaine says, trying not to cringe at the irony. "Just because I'm not in the mood to talk to him anymore doesn't mean I'm doing something wrong. I don't have to be friends with someone if I don't want to be, and I don't remember anyone dying and putting you two in charge of my social life."  
  
Finn looks like he wants to punch him, or at least punch something as he says,  
  
"I don't get it. Kurt's been nothing but a great friend to you and now you're just dropping him without even an explanation? I thought you were a better person than that."  
  
"I'm really not," Blaine says.  
  
"I can't believe I thought you were cool for a stoner," Puck says in utter disgust. "Kurt deserves better than you anyway. He doesn't need you and your bullshit."  
  
"I know," Blaine says, and the bus pulls to a stop in front of him and he climbs inside. He wonders if Kurt knows Puck cares about him at all.  
  
***  
  
Over the next few days it seems like everyone in glee club takes their turn at him. Tina and Mike, who are probably the nicest people Blaine has ever met, look at him like he's something unpleasant they just walked in and literally turn and go the other way when they see him in the hallway.  
  
Rachel starts following him from class to class, lecturing nonstop about the importance of friendship and how healthy relationships in high school help prepare you for the real world and "if you can't appreciate Kurt for the person that he is, you will be a failure your whole life and  _honestly_  Blaine, what is your  _problem_?"  
  
Santana casually tells him that she could kill him and no one would ever find his body and Artie just shakes his head at him sadly, saying,  
  
"I can't believe I let you talk to me about  _Half-Life_ , man."  
  
It's when he notices that Lauren doesn't insult him anymore that Blaine starts to realize just how big a deal this is to  _all_ of New Directions. He never thought he'd see a situation where Lauren didn't resort to caustic remarks to make her point, but now she just looks at him coldly and says,  
  
"You're not even worth my time anymore, Brenner."  
  
After that she refuses to even look him in the eye.  
  
Mercedes is even worse. She sits down next to him in the cafeteria one day and quietly says,  
  
"He just wants to know if it's something he did."  
  
"He asked you to ask me that?" Blaine says, because that doesn't sound like something Kurt would do.  
  
"No," Mercedes admits. "But I know that's what he wants to know. I know Kurt, Blaine. So do you. We both know how important his friends are. He's not even mad at you, even though the rest of us keep telling him he should be. He's just worried. He's worried that he hurt you somehow, and he wants to know what he can do to make things right."  
  
"He can't do anything," Blaine says, and he feels so tired. "I just...I can't be around him anymore. I don't have a good reason, but it's nothing he did. There's nothing he can fix."  
  
"So that's it?" Mercedes says. "This is how you treat your friends?"  
  
"I've never been very good at the friend thing," Blaine says. "I'm not trying to hurt him, okay? Please tell him I don't want to hurt him."  
  
"You're too late for that," Mercedes says before she gets up and walks away. After that she doesn't look at him again, either.

***

It's a long and exhausting week for Blaine. Most of the glee club has downgraded defence of Kurt's honour from targeted attacks to ignoring Blaine and pretending he's not there, like they're acting like the bigger people on Kurt's behalf or something. Only Sam and Brittany ever acknowledge him now, Brittany waving at him animatedly while Artie or Santana try to stop her, and Sam smiling amiably and noncommittally when they pass in the halls, same as ever.   
  
Blaine hates that he's making other people so disappointed, and he hates knowing that he's letting people down, so he supposes he should feel relief by the switch in tactics. Instead he barely notices there's been a difference. He feels as heavy and weighed down as ever, the only thing really registering for him is the fact that he's completely destroyed the only good thing he's ever had. Kurt must hate him know and even if he hadn't gone and fallen for the guy, knowing that he's hurt the one person who really means something to him would make him feel like absolute crap.  
  
  
Since not even the actions of Finn or Mercedes have much bearing on the base level of shitty Blaine feels, the sense of relief that comes with the weekend doesn't have as much to do with the chance to escape New Directions as it does with the fact that he can now drink enough alcohol to kill an elephant. Even though he can't forgive himself for bailing on Kurt, he can always drink so much that he passes out and doesn't need to think about  _anything_  anymore.  
  
There are a lot of parties in the works when he leaves the school on Friday. He's biding his time at the mall, sitting in the food court waiting for the first party at Anthony Rashad's house to really get going before he crashes it, when he gets a text from his father.  
  
 _Dad: Sent 7:08 PM  
Come home now. Need to talk. Important._  
  
  
Blaine groans. Normally he never disobeys Tom, does everything he's told without hesitating. Tom is never too demanding and Blaine has learned the hard way that his methods of discipline are unpredictable and frighteningly imaginative at best. But no matter how many times he looks at the text and tells himself,  _I need to go home_ , he doesn't move. He just sits there and waits for 9 o'clock to roll around and the stores to start closing their doors before dragging himself to his feet and making his way to Anthony's.  
  
***  
  
When Blaine gets to Anthony's house he doesn't waste any time making small talk and pretending like he's supposed to be there, which is his usual strategy. Instead he makes his way to the first source of open alcohol he can find and starts in drinking. He still makes a bit of an effort to smile at people and ask how it's going, just in case sullenly downing shot after shot of alcohol before finally giving up on dignity and switching to drinking straight out of the bottle without so much as saying a word to another person pisses Anthony off enough to throw him out.  
  
Blaine feels vibrations from his phone periodically, alerting him to new text messages arriving, but he ignores all of them. Whatever his dad needs to tell him can wait. The asshole ruined his life, after all. Blaine can't bring himself to care if he ruins the evening in return.  
  
As the hard liquor starts to seep into his system, Blaine begins to wonder if he's made the right choice by coming here. He doesn't feel very distracted, if anything he only fixates on his problems more now. He feels more depressed than he's felt all week. Early he had the blinding terror of what was happening to him keeping him from thinking about it too closely. Blaine guesses that makes sense, because if you're running away from an angry bear or something, you don't take the time to turn around to get a better look. Right now though, all that terror has faded away into the dull ache of inevitability. He wants another boy so far it doesn't seem like any amount of running is going to change that.  
  
Tom always told him this would happen one day.  
  
"One day this will feel so good."  
  
"You'll learn to love this."  
  
"One day you'll be such a slut for me that you'll beg me for it."  
  
Blaine blinks hard, trying to force the voices out of his head. Tom always wanted someone who would want  _him_  back, he didn't want someone who would go off and find someone else to perve on. He wonders if Tom saw him the way Blaine sees Kurt: perfect and untouched, something to be explored and discovered. He drinks some more from the bottle in his hand. He's not even sure what it is. Whiskey maybe. He just needs to stop thinking the things he's thinking.  
  
For the last seven years Blaine has been slowly turning into a monster, evil and destructive. Every time Tom touches him, the more like Tom he becomes. Blaine doesn't even know if he can stop it, even if he can't change what's already been done. Maybe he's not too late to at least keep things from getting worse. He wonders if his parents would have sent him away if they knew what it would turn him into. Or maybe he was always this way and they didn't want to see him grow into the part. Maybe Tom had nothing to do with it, and Blaine's just always been wrong – a lost cause his own family didn't see as worth saving.  
  
A tear splashes onto his cheek. Blaine hastily wipes it away before anyone notices and has another drink. He wonders if he could find enough half-filled bottles to keep drinking until his body gives up on him too. He thinks about dying a lot as a way to escape Tom, but until now he's never thought of it as a way to escape himself. Blaine wonders if it's a mercy killing if it's suicide, if he deserves mercy at all. But he's not the only person to think about in all this, either. He may be undeserving but there's Kurt who needs saving from him, too. Kurt who is so open and accepting he probably wouldn't turn Blaine away until it's too late.  
  
Anthony and some of the other jocks have started to give him some really strange looks, and Blaine sort of remembers he'd been trying to  _not_  get drunk off in the corner without interacting with anyone else. He staggers to his feet, wondering if he should try to rectify this, or just steal another bottle of something and leave. He's weaving his way over to a rapidly disappearing bottle of vodka when he hears the back door open and several new voices, talking excitedly all at once.  
  
They sound familiar and Blaine squints across the room for a while before it registers that he's looking at the glee club, all very loud and all very drunk, except perhaps for Finn, who Blaine notes is the only one not hanging on to someone else to stay upright. He wonders where they'd been hiding since he hadn't remembered seeing any of them here earlier when he hears Mike happily talking to one of the other jocks,  
  
"Puck's texting machine said Anthony's party could only be better if it wasn't already low on beverages."  
  
He carefully enunciates "bev-er-AUGH-ges" and seems pleased when it comes out properly.  
  
"So I said to Puck, 'Puck! If the Muppets always taught me to share, just like Whoever Jewish Jesus Is taught  _you_  to share, then maybe we should fucking  _share_. If we took  _our_  drinks to share at  _their_  party, our parties would merge to form a  _super_  party that would be the best of all parties. Just like on Power Rangers."  
  
Blaine had never known that New Directions were prone to throwing big parties for themselves where they got drunk and talked about children's television or whatever. He also didn't know that Jewish Jesus wasn't regular Jesus, but both of these issues are secondary to making sure Kurt isn't hanging out somewhere with the rest of his old friends.  
  
He doesn't know what the best way is to deal with this. Kurt's friends haven't been as hard on him for the last couple days, but he still knows they won't respond well if he casually asks them if Kurt is around when he goes up and asks one of them. He's just deciding that maybe it would be better if he sticks with his original plan and leaves before anyone notices him when a voice from behind says,  
  
"Don't worry. He's not here."  
  
Blaine turns around and Sam is standing there, looking drunk and relaxed, but still aware enough his surroundings to have noticed Blaine looking.  
  
"Rachel threw a party at her house tonight," Sam says. "All of glee club came. She invited Kurt too, but he had other plans. Something about an after school meeting with the Warblers. They still haven't found a good enough lead singer for the competitions next year and the council is panicking."  
  
"Seems a little early for them to do that," Blaine says, but he's not really thinking about what Sam is saying, too busy trying to decide if he's sad Kurt isn't there or relieved. He doesn't notice Sam watching him.  
  
"Kurt's a really good guy, you know?" Sam says finally, and here it comes. Blaine had been wondering why Sam has been holding back when everyone else was more than happy to have a go at him. He turns to leave abruptly and almost falls over when Sam grabs onto his arm.  
  
"No don't leave," Sam says. "I don't want to tell you you suck or anything like that. I just wanted to say that if something's bothering you, you  _can_  talk to Kurt about it. He's a really understanding person. If you have a problem he might be able to help you."  
  
Blaine squints at him suspiciously.  
  
"How do you know?" He asks. "When have you ever told Kurt one of your secrets?"  
  
Sam shrugs, a little uncomfortable now.  
  
"We've just been talking a lot more lately," he says, vaguely. "Kurt's a good friend to have, if you give him the chance."  
  
"I don't need any friends," Blaine says, and this bottle of vodka isn't as full as he thought. It won't even last for half an hour once Blaine is gone, so he heads back to the liquor cabinet to see what else is left. Somewhere along the way he bumps into Rachel, who seems to have forgotten she's angry with him, if the way she clings at him and rubs against him is any indicator.  
  
"Oh Blaine," she says. "I've missed you! We never talk anymore and you still won't sing with us and you make me sad. That's very uncool, Blaine."  
  
"Uh, hi Rachel," he says, trying to pull her off of him so he can get past, but he's too drunk to get very far and she's too drunk to take the hint.  
  
"Blaine, Finn just said I'm needy," Rachel whines. "I don't think I'm needy, do you?  _God_  he is such a  _jerk_."  
  
She twists around to shout this, making sure Finn is watching her from across the room. Finn rolls his eyes and goes back to talking to Anthony.  
  
"Did you  _see_  that," Rachel hisses, her eyes flashing. "What a  _jerk_."  
  
She stops and leans back into Blaine, sniffing his  _neck_  before announcing.  
  
"You? Smell  _awesome_. Let's dance!"  
  
Rachel begins bopping and hopping around to the music, holding onto Blaine's hands and leaving him no option but to join in with her, at least partially. He focuses on how her horrid green dress moves and slides across her body, noticing that she seems to have lost her bra at some point. Slowly he wonders if maybe noticing is a good sign for him. Maybe if he tries he could make sure whatever was happening to him  _did_  stop where it is. He would always feel this way for Kurt, but if he made sure never to see Kurt again maybe it wouldn't matter. Not if he liked girls like a normal person the rest of the time.  
  
"We should make out," he whispers into Rachel's ear. She stops nuzzling his hair and smiles at him hugely.  
  
"I am gonna rock your  _world_ ," she whispers back and suddenly her mouth is on his and her hands are around his neck pulling him closer as they deepen the kiss. So far as drunk kisses go this one is intense and spectacular. Rachel is nothing if not an excellent kisser and for a few moments, Blaine is convinced that he could get very used to this.  
  
Then he moves to slide his hand down her back and pull her closer, and her body is soft and curvy, nothing like a boy's. Her hair is long and soft and tickles his face. Her lips taste like chap stick. Blaine pulls her hips towards his realizes this is the closest he's ever gotten to a girl in his life. He feels like somehow it should mean more to him than it does.  
  
 _I wonder what it would feel like to hold Kurt like this._  The thought comes to him unbidden and brings with it a spike of arousal. Kissing Rachel is nice, but that one thought about Kurt sends a wave of emotion running over him that threatens to push all thoughts of Rachel to the side completely.  
  
He tries to focus on her, desperately relocate himself in the moment, but it's no use. Everything about her feels wrong and out of place to him. There's nothing to hold his interest or keep his mind from drifting back to imagining holding a slight but masculine build, reaching up to kiss a mouth slightly higher than his own, running his hands through a short-cropped head of hair.  
  
"Fuck," he says, pulling away from Rachel. Of course it didn't work. Of course it couldn't be that easy.  
  
"What's wrong?" Rachel asks, sounding like she doesn't know if she should be concerned or hurt. "Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"No," Blaine says, and his throat feels constricted and sore. His eyes are stinging. "It's not you, it's me. I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have...why can't I feel this?"  
  
He looks at her desperately and her eyes are wide in confusion and concern.  
  
"You're so pretty, Rachel," he says, tears he's been holding back for over a week finally starting to fall. "You're so goddamn attractive. If you knew how pretty you are you would be the most popular girl in school, you know that? Why can't I feel this? What's wrong with me?"  
  
"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine," Rachel is saying, like she's trying to be comforting, but is much too drunk to remember how to go about it. "Are you gay? S'okay, Blaine. S'okay, s'okay."  
  
"It's not okay," Blaine says, as she takes him by the hand and leads him away from the music. "You're so beautiful, and yeah, you're a little  _loud_  and kind of intense sometimes, but you're so  _pretty_. Inside and outside, except for right now, because of your dress – it's really bad Rachel. But still, you're perfect and even though none of the guys want to admit it, I'm pretty sure every member of every sports team thinks about you in those skirts at night when they masturbate. Why can't you turn me on, too?"  
  
Rachel's smile is a little strained, and the pats she has been gently giving his arm start to carry a sting with them as she says,  
  
"Okay Blaine, just a lil tip: if you wanna gay crisis all over me by telling me how pretty I am, tha's really nice, but only if you don't be mean and objexify...objer...start calling me a hot footstool, okay?"  
  
"Sorry," Blaine mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
Rachel looks at him and her lower lib wobbles a little as she suddenly grabs him into a hug, petting his hair softly.  
  
"Don't be sad," she says. "Gay people are really nice, Blaine. I know. Both of my dads are gay and they like me more than anyone else I know. And Kurt! Kurt's  _super_  gay. Do you remember him? Isn't he nice?"  
  
Blaine whimpers a little and whispers,  
  
"I know."  
  
"See?" Rachel says, smiling brightly as she pulls back to stare at him with slightly glassy eyes. "Don't you feel better now?"  
  
Blaine still can't stop crying, and the smile falls from Rachel's face as she takes him by the hand again and leads him to the nearest sofa, where Puck is looking incredulously at Santana who is sobbing hard as she tells Sam about the ending to  _Toy Story 3_.  
  
"Is this a crying couch?" Rachel slurs, gently pushing Blaine into the space between Puck and Santana. "Because Blaine is probly gay and he needs to cry about it for a little while."  
  
Puck looks at Blaine with his eyebrows raised a little, looking a lot more sober than everyone else in the room at the moment. Admittedly this doesn't mean a whole lot.  
  
"You didn't know you were a homo?" he grins. "You should have asked one of us, we all knew."  
  
"Oh God," Blaine moans, burying his face in his hands.   
  
"Come on, Puck," Sam is saying. "That's really not helping."  
  
"Yeah," he hears Santana say, shakily. "Maybe it's not  _easy_  figuring out that you're not as straight as your friends, did you ever think about that Puckerman? Maybe it really  _sucks_."  
  
"I can't be gay," he says into his hands. "If I'm gay, my dad..."  
  
He trails off, losing the sentence in a haze of alcohol before he can say it, but he feels the sofa shift as Puck leans forward to hear better.  
  
"You're worried about your dad finding out?" He asks, suddenly a lot more serious. "Why? Do you think you might get into trouble for liking other guys?"  
  
"Oh tha's not good," he hears Rachel say in drunken disapproval, but he doesn't really listen.  
  
"I never know what I'll do that'll get me into trouble," he admits, defeated. "It's like, I never know what will make him mad at me."  
  
"Well, you probably shouldn't start smoking your pot in front of him then," Sam says, trying to lighten the mood a little.  
  
Blaine just shakes his head.  
  
"Dad's the one who bought marijuana for me in the first place. He said I needed to learn to calm down."  
  
There's a pause, and then Puck says,  
  
"Dude, why are you worried about getting into trouble about  _anything_? Your dad sounds  _awesome_!"  
  
"He gets so angry," Blaine says, leaning back against the cushions and staring blankly at the wall. "It's like every time I see him I don't know what's going to happen."  
  
"Maybe he's just worried about you?" Sam suggests.  
  
Blaine pulls down his shirt collar and turns to Sam so he can see the long jagged cut that runs along his collarbone.  
  
"He did that once because I called him by his first name. Threw me across the fucking room and I went through a glass coffee table. Sometimes he still throws things at me if I hesitate before I say dad, just in case I was thinking about saying something else."  
  
"Holy shit," Puck says. "Does he have that Joan Crawford thing or something?"  
  
"What?" Blaine asks, confused and a little frustrated. "He doesn't  _have_  anything. He  _has_  me, and I'm never gonna get out. I don't have friends, I don't have a family, he doesn't  _let_  me."  
  
Blaine is really crying now, but for some reason he can't stop talking. Now that he's started to say all these things out loud, he feels like something inside will crush him if he stops.  
  
"It's like every time I feel safe, like things are going to get better, it's like he can tell and we're packing up to leave again. I'm gonna die one day, all alone, and it's going to be because that's what he wants. He wants me to die without ever being happy, even once. I think he's happy and doesn't want me to know what it feels like, do you know how fucked up that is?"  
  
"Blaine," Rachel says, as she unsteadily gets down on her knees and leans forward to cup Blaine's face in her cool hands, working very hard to enunciate so he knows she means it. "That's not right, Blaine. You need to do something about that. If your dad needs help, you need to tell somebody. If he's hurting you, you have to make it stop. He can't stop you from living or being happy. No one can make you die alone."  
  
"He can," Blaine says, staring back into Rachel's eyes. "One day he'll kill me. I'll do something, I'll cross a line, and he'll just do it."  
  
Rachel doesn't say anything, but there are tears spilling down her cheeks now too, and somewhere to his right he can hear the keypad of a phone.  
  
"I hope he does it soon," Blaine adds, almost to himself and suddenly he has a lap full of Rachel Berry, who has climbed on top of him, holding him tightly as he cries on her shoulder.  
  
***  
  
It's a little while after that before anything else happens. Rachel stays where she is and even though Blaine's legs fell asleep a long time ago, he doesn't make her move. He likes the weight of her there, reminding him where he is. He's vaguely aware of a rotating cycle of New Directions approaching the small group and asking if everything is alright, especially Finn. Even Mercedes has given up on her silent treatment and he hears her cautiously asking something about "how much longer?"  
  
Sometimes he hears Puck or Sam answer, and one time Santana sobs something to Brittany about how "Blaine's life is awful and it's really ruining my buzz" but he never says anything and neither does Rachel so far as he notices. He's not really interested in responding to anyone ever again until he feels Puck vacating his spot for someone new, and someone is trying to pull Rachel away and a voice that Blaine feels he hasn't heard in ages is saying,  
  
"I can take it from here, Rachel."  
  
"Kurt," Rachel says, loosening her hold a little as she looks over at Kurt but makes no moves to get up. "Blaine is really upset right now."  
  
"I heard," Kurt says, and Blaine isn't looking at him but he can hear that smile in his voice just as well as always, although it sounds like it's tempered with something else. "That's why I thought I'd stop by."  
  
"Hey," Blaine says, wiping his eyes again and turning to face Kurt as he realizes something. "You finally showed up without an invitation!"  
  
"What can I say?" Kurt says. "It seemed like as good a time as any. You're a terrible influence on me, Blaine Brenner."  
  
Blaine heaves out a sob, and then another one, and Rachel is leaning back on him and patting him all over his head and shoulders making insane noises that are probably supposed to be consoling and Blaine is suddenly aware that they must look absolutely  _ridiculous_  right now.  
  
"We can't get him to stop Kurt," Rachel says and she looks a little more sober now, but a lot more frantic as she looks at Kurt wildly.  
  
"I can tell," Kurt says, and he sounds calm but he looks pretty worried himself as he slips an arm behind Blaine and squeezes his shoulder. "Why don't you get up so we can give his legs a chance to get some circulation in them, and then I'll take him home?"  
  
"I don't want to go home," Blaine says as Rachel slides onto the floor. "I hate going home."  
  
"Okay," Kurt says agreeably. "I'll take you somewhere else. We don't have to go home if you don't want to."  
  
"I don't really even have a home," Blaine says, and Kurt looks at him in confusion, so Blaine clarifies, louder. "I don't have a home."  
  
"I do," Kurt suggests. "Maybe we could go there?"  
  
"Your dad doesn't like me," Blaine says.  
  
"He'll get over it," Finn says, and Blaine didn't even know he was still there. "He likes me now, and he actually threw me out once."  
  
"He's too over-protective sometimes," Kurt agrees. "But he always comes around."  
  
"You're so lucky," Blaine says, quietly and Kurt gives him another worried look before finally asking, "Do you think you can walk? We really need to get you out of here."  
  
Kurt gets up and tries to help Blaine get to his feet, which is quite the task since his legs really haven't woken up yet and for a second it feels like Blaine is going to do a face plant into the carpet, but suddenly Finn is right there, reflexes benefiting by being one of the only two sober people in the room, and he's helping Kurt haul Blaine outside to his Navigator.  
  
"I hope you don't mind having your car covered in barf," Finn comments as they slowly manoeuvre away from the music and noise.  
  
"I certainly do mind," Kurt says. "That's why I brought a very big garbage bag. Blaine?"  
  
He raises his voice to make sure he has Blaine's attention. "If you are going to do any vomiting you will do it into that garbage bag, do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Uh-huh," Blaine says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, but distracted by how the streetlights are spinning.  
  
It takes some wrangling on everyone's part to get Blaine firmly belted into the car, weakly leaning over the garbage bag, just in case. Kurt is just climbing into his seat and getting ready to close the door when Finn leans in to get another look at Blaine and say,  
  
"Don't leave him alone for a while, okay? He was really scary in there, Kurt. He kept talking about wanting to die and feeling alone and...just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid?"  
  
"I won't," Kurt sounds grim as he shuts the door and turns on the engine. He pulls out as gently as he can manage and Blaine is vaguely aware that he's driving below the speed limit, likely to avoid any unnecessary bumps or jarring movements.  
  
"You're amazing," he mumbles.  
  
"I am," Kurt agrees. "But don't think flattery will get you out of an explanation. Blacking out won't help you either, because I'll just pour water on you until you knock it off, so don't even try it. Now, care to explain what's been going on lately?"  
  
"Nothing much," Blaine says, but Kurt snorts.  
  
"Bullshit. You completely stopped talking to me last week for no reason. I kept going over our texts trying to find _something_  that made you mad enough to drop me like that but there wasn't anything to find. Now I see you again and you look like you're having a nervous breakdown. What's going on?"  
  
"I was doing you a favour," Blaine says, a little sullenly. "You think that because we're good friends now it's gonna be forever? Because guess what? My life doesn't work that way. One day I'll be making plans with you for the weekend and the next I'll be gone and you'll never hear from me again. So if you don't like it just let me out now and we can go back to ignoring each other."  
  
"What's wrong with you Blaine?" Kurt asks again.  
  
"It's all your fault," Blaine says.  
  
"What is?" And Kurt sounds so upset that Blaine is even angrier with himself.  
  
"Shit I'm sorry," He says, slumping against the window as the tears start falling again. "It's not your fault, Kurt. It's not your fault. I'm just so messed up and now I've dragged you right into the middle of it and I never wanted to that to you."  
  
"What did you drag me into?" Kurt persists, as they slow for an approaching stop sign. "Blaine, you're not making any sense."  
  
"I told Rachel she's beautiful tonight," Blaine says, closing his eyes. "And she is, but she doesn't even come close to you."  
  
Kurt makes a little strangled sound and stalls the car. Twice. When he finally gets them moving again, it's only long enough to pull over to the side of the road and shift in his seat to get a good look at Blaine.  
  
"What?" is all that he says.  
  
"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Blaine says, truthfully. "Just gorgeous. Sometimes when I look at you it's all I can think about. I'm sorry."  
  
"Why are you sorry?" Kurt asks. "I mean, if you think you you're gay, I understand how that might freak you out, but you never have to apologise about it, especially not to me."  
  
"Yes I do," Blaine insists, feeling the panic rise up inside him again. "You don't deserve this, Kurt. This is all wrong,  _I'm_ all wrong. I'm  _sick_ , do you get that?"  
  
"Blaine, there's nothing sick about being gay," Kurt says, his voice going slightly on edge. "You know that, at least I thought you did."  
  
"I'm not gay," Blaine says, his voice rising in his desperation for Kurt to get this. "I'm  _wrong_. I am a fucking  _creep_ , Kurt. And if I let you stay friends with me, you'll end up just like me."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with you, Blaine," Kurt says, and he's starting to sound angry. "If you like guys, you like guys. There's no right or wrong way to go about it. You can't call yourself a creep without calling me one, too."   
  
He looks away in disgust.  
  
"I don't believe this," He says. "First Karofsky and that  _stupid_  kiss, and now I'm sitting here listening to a boy tell me he likes me and it's just as ugly. Why do all my firsts go so wrong?"  
  
"Because it's me," Blaine says, trying to fight through his muddled thoughts for clarity. "It's  _my_  fault. I destroy good things, Kurt. It's what I do. I never should have let myself get to know you, but you made me feel like I could be happy when I was with you. I didn't want to let go of that. It was selfish, though. It was selfish and wrong and I'm sorry."  
  
He takes a deep breath and adds,  
  
"I never said you were a creep. You're not the wrong one, I am."  
  
"But I'm gay, too," Kurt says.  
  
"You don't get it," Blaine says. "I'm not gay, alright? It's not the same for me. You've always been this way."  
  
"Why do you think you're any different?" Kurt says. "You're right, I don't understand what you're telling me. I like guys and apparently you do too. We're the same."  
  
"The difference is you're gay and it's not a mistake," Blaine says. "You're the way you're supposed to be. I'm like, I don't know, Frankenstein's monster. If I like you it's not because I'm gay it's because I'm a goddamned puppet."  
  
"No one can make another person gay, Blaine," Kurt says. "You are or you aren't, that's all."  
  
Blaine leans back against the window and huddles in on himself. He wishes he could stop shaking.  
  
"Then he picked me because he could tell," he says quietly. "I don't know which one is worse."  
  
"Blaine," Kurt says, and he trails off. Suddenly he sounds very wary.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, Kurt," Blaine says. He's still  _incredibly_  hammered, but he's slowly realizing that he's been talking a lot more than he normally does tonight, and that if he keeps it up, he's going to reveal something he regrets, even more than what he's already done.  
  
"Blaine, look at me," Kurt's voice is firm and Blaine feels his hand touch his shoulder. He tries to shy away, but the hand follows. "Blaine, I mean it. Look at me."  
  
Blaine turns around, slowly. Kurt looks terrified.  
  
"Are you saying what I think you're saying? Someone molested you?"  
  
It takes a moment for Blaine to remember that he has to answer, to deny it even though he knows it's true, but he's just so stunned to hear it said out loud like  _that_ , that for a moment he can't say anything. That second of hesitation must have said volumes to Kurt though, because suddenly Kurt has managed to slide over on to the armrest and he's wrapping Blaine up in his arms and Blaine thinks maybe he could still turn this around, say Kurt has it wrong and after Kurt makes some awkward apologies they can both pretend this never happened, but Kurt is holding him and it feels wonderful and Blaine doesn't say a word.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Kurt is saying, and his voice is choked. "How – when did it happen?"  
  
"I don't – " Blaine breaks off, because he's really not sure what to say. He's so confused and he doesn't really get what Kurt is asking. "I'm not sure? I think I was maybe 7 the first time."  
  
"It happened more than one time?" Kurt sounds devastated.   
  
Blaine wants to make it so he never said anything at all, but the parts of his brain that handle lying and silence are both passed out drunk right now so instead he says,  
  
"Not one time. All the time. It's happened so much, now I'm trying to push it off on to other people. I'm not stupid. I read things, Kurt. People say if it happened to you, you do it to other people, and that's the what's happening. It's why I've started to have these fucking  _sick_  dreams about you. It's like I'm dirty now but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Kurt. I don't want to get you dirty, too."  
  
Kurt pulls away from Blaine, keeping a tight grip on Blaine's arms as he stares at him so intently Blaine can almost see the thoughts flying behind his eyes. It's like he has a million questions and a million things to say and he has no idea what should come out first.  
  
"You're not dirty, Blaine," Is what he finally seems to settle on. "You are kind and caring and thoughtful. You're wonderful, and the only person who is sick and disgusting is the person who did this to you."  
  
He hesitates a little before saying,  
  
"Blaine? I know that this is a very big deal for you to tell me, and I get it's not exactly fair to ask you about something so scary while you're, um, not at your best, but this is important. Too important for me to wait. You said this started when you were 7? It's just...you told me you were 7 when your mom left, that now it's just you and your dad. When Finn and Mercedes started calling me tonight, they said you were...saying things about how you and your father don't get along. Is your father the one who – ?"  
  
"Stop it," Blaine cuts him off, his stomach roiling. "My father would  _never_  do that."  
  
Everything is fuzzy right now, and Blaine knows he's not quite getting some of what Kurt is asking, somehow, but he knows his father, or at least he knew him, once. Just thinking about him doing what Tom has done to him is making the air in the car suffocating. He desperately fumbles with his seatbelt and the door, staggering gracelessly into the fresh night air.  
  
Kurt is at his side again in an instant, apologizing.  
  
"Okay, okay Blaine," he says. "I'm sorry. I just needed to know."  
  
Blaine just shakes his head, refusing to be led back into the car, taking in big gulps of air. Kurt doesn't look convinced, and Blaine  _needs_  Kurt to understand. He parents are only memories now, but knowing Kurt thinks something like  _that_ about them hurts in a way he wouldn't be able to explain even if he were sober.  
  
"He hates me, Kurt," he says. "My father hates me, but he's not – he would never do that. He's not a bad person, he just doesn't want me around."  
  
"That sounds like a bad person to me," Kurt says, quietly. "Sam said he hurts you."  
  
"Tom," Blaine says, finally realizing what it is Kurt is trying to say. "Tom...wasn't exactly meant to be a parent. He used to say I was the perfect son for him. He used to think I mattered. But lately...I think he hates me now, too."  
  
Kurt's brow wrinkles a little in confusion.  
  
"You're not making sense, Blaine. What do you mean 'too'? Will you tell me who's doing this to you, please? If it's not your dad, is it another family member or something? I can help you. You don't have to go through this anymore."  
  
"Family," Blaine mutters to himself, as he lets himself think about the way Tom seems to care less and less what he does, how he hardly comes into his room anymore, how sometimes Blaine catches him looking at him in open disgust.  
  
He slides down the side of the car, sitting heavily on the pavement. He can hear the sound of the radio playing faintly above his head.  
  
"I don't think I have any family any more. There's something wrong with me. It's like...people love me when everything is new. But then they get to know me and they don't want me anymore. Not even for things like sex. I don't like having sex, Kurt. I  _hate_  it, but at least I knew someone cared. What happens to me when I'm not even worth that?"  
  
"Stop it, stop it," Kurt is whispering, and he sounds absolutely broken. "That's not true. You are worth so much. You're better than the things that happen to you."  
  
He gets to his knees and turns to face him, leaning forward and Blaine can see how earnest he looks with his face bathed in the interior light of the car.  
  
"I'm not dirty because of Karofsky, right?"  
  
"Of course not," Blaine says.  
  
"Then how could it be any different because it's you?"  
  
"You don't understand," Blaine tries again. "Those dreams I've been having about you – obviously I want it, or else why would I think about you like that? Something broke and now I'm just like him."  
  
"Blaine," Kurt says firmly, and Blaine thinks he's trying to look authoritative, but the effect is sort of ruined by how red his face is getting. "When you're a teenager our age? I'm pretty sure sex dreams are how you tell you  _aren't_  broken. Seriously. Trent from the Warblers says he never wants to have sex at all and even he said  _he_  has sex dreams."  
  
"You too?" Blaine asks, and Kurt gets even redder.  
  
"To be honest," he says, painfully awkward and refusing to look Blaine in the eye. "Sometimes. I've...I've sort of had a crush on you since we met, Blaine. I told you my type was straight jocks once, but that's not it at all. Sweet guys with protective streaks have always been like Kryptonite to me. God, Finn stood up for me  _once_  the first time he talked to me and I had a crush on him for almost a year. The night my father met you, Finn mentioned that he'd seen you helping me get slushie out of my clothes and two nights later I was getting lectured about safe sex. That's how much you are my type. My dad had no clue if you were gay or straight, but I'm so damn predictable he wasn't about to take any chances."  
  
Blaine's heart is hammering in his chest. He doesn't know if he needs to feel upset and vindicated by what Kurt is saying, because Kurt likes him and he really  _is_  like poison, or elated and overwhelmed because Kurt  _likes him_. He settles for feeling everything at once.  
  
Kurt is looking at him carefully, obviously deep in thought.  
  
"Can I ask you a very embarrassing question? I promise there's a point," He finally asks. Blaine shrugs a little, so Kurt takes a breath and continues. "When you dream about me, what happens? Obviously we're, um, doing things but...I know when Karofsky was getting so scary before I left McKinley I had a couple  _intense_  dreams – nightmares, really – about him. The dreams didn't mean I wanted him or what he was doing, though. How do you know your dreams are about how much you like me?"  
  
"Karofsky wanted to hurt you," Blaine says. "You'd never hurt me. I've had nightmares about people who've hurt me, Kurt. These aren't like those kinds of dreams at all. It's like all my favourite things about you are up close and in front of me, and I can look at them all as much as I want. I can look at your eyes, and the freckles on your nose, and I get to hear your voice, and your stories and secrets, and your laugh. You laugh so much in my dreams. I think I might like it the most."  
  
He leans back and rolls over a little, trying to move to his side and close his eyes. Things feel too close again. He can't talk about Kurt and look at him too; he feels like he's cut wide open and his insides are on display.  
  
"You just want me to say nice things about you," he mutters accusingly.  
  
"Blaine," Kurt says, chastising, but Blaine can hear how pleased he sounds. He's not fooling anyone. "I'm trying to make a point."  
  
Blaine opens an eye and looks at him.  
  
"When my dad talked to me about sex it was the single most mortifying thing that's ever happened to me," Kurt says. "I break out in hives just thinking about it. But he said a lot of things that made so much sense. He said sex is only worth it when you're having it with someone who matters, and who knows that you matter. I would really like you to trust me enough to tell me who's been hurting you, but no matter who he is, you need to know how you're thinking about sex isn't the same way he thinks about it."  
  
"Sex is just sex, Kurt," Blaine says, but Kurt is shaking his head emphatically.  
  
"No. It's not. Do you ever spend time with this guy, Blaine? I mean, because you want to? Do you ever want to hear about what he did that day? You said you like my eyes, well what's your favourite feature of his? Do you like it when he laughs?"  
  
Blaine just stares at him. He can tell Kurt believes the things he's saying, somehow he makes Blaine want to believe them, too.   
  
"Wanting someone else isn't always bad, Blaine," Kurt says. "If he really made you gay, you'd think about sex the same way he does, but you obviously don't. You're not like him at all. No matter what's happened to you, loving someone else doesn't have to be bad."  
  
"Is it bad if I want him to love me again?" Blaine asks, quietly. "I don't love him. I maybe never did, but I don't want to be alone, either. I'm so scared of being alone."  
  
Blaine can feel hot tears running down his face again and he can't believe he still has anything left to cry at this point, and then Kurt is hugging him, and he can't believe he's been held so many times tonight, either. No one ever holds him like this.  
  
"You're not alone," Kurt whispers. "I'm here. I'm right here. Please tell me who it is. I just want to help."  
  
"I can't tell anyone," Blaine says. "I'm sorry. I love my parents, even though I try not to. I don't want them to be mad at me, and if I tell anyone they'll know someone had to let it happen. When I was little I thought no one would care but now I know how much trouble they'd get into. I don't want to hurt them."  
  
Kurt makes a frustrated noise.  
  
"Fine," he says. "But we aren't done talking about this. I want you to tell me. This needs to stop, Blaine."  
  
"I think it is," Blaine says. "Something's different now. He doesn't even look at me anymore."  
  
"You're not 7 anymore," Kurt says in a voice so loaded down with disgust and vitriol Blaine almost doesn't recognize it. "You've probably gotten too old for him. Some people only get turned on when they can control the person they're with completely."  
  
Blaine wonders vaguely if Kurt is thinking about Karofsky right now. For a few minutes neither of them speak. They just sit there and silently listen to the radio play, Blaine leaning into Kurt's side as Kurt rubs his arm up and down in slow measured movements. Neither of them comment on the cold.  
  
"This is a good song," Blaine says suddenly. He sort of knows that came out of nowhere, especially when Kurt glances at him like he might have lost his mind, but Blaine means it. It sounds so good it's like it's burrowing into his soul.  
  
"So who are you a fan of?" Kurt asks, after a minute, like he's decided he'll go along with the distraction for the time being. "Johnny Cash or U2?"  
  
Blaine just shrugs.  
  
"I don't know," he says. "I just like this song. It makes sense to me. There's nothing worse than trying to find something when you don't know what you're looking for."  
  
"Maybe not knowing what you want makes it that much better when you find it," Kurt suggests.  
  
"Maybe," Blaine says. He leans further into Kurt and closes his eyes.

***

Blaine isn't sure what happens after he falls asleep outside of Kurt's car. At least, he thinks that's what happened. He honestly has no memories in between closing his eyes to the sounds of Johnny Cash and flailing awake in Kurt's bed seemingly minutes later.  
  
"Where am I?" He mumbles, because he recognises some of the stuff in the room as belonging to Kurt, but this is not Kurt's room which is in a basement except it isn't anymore and, oh yeah, Kurt moved didn't he?  
  
"Oh, sorry," says a voice, also familiar. "My bad."  
  
Blaine gets his bearings just in time to see Kurt's dad backing his way out the door, looking bewildered and slightly panicky. Kurt is sitting in front of a mirror doing some sort of weird skin ritual to his face. Blaine feels like there is a death metal concert happening inside his head, his skull pounding so hard it might be vibrating. He lets out another whimpering groan as the room starts to spin.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kurt is saying, rushing over to from his chair to help Blaine sit properly and stick a garbage can under his nose. This was a wise move, Blaine decides as his stomach heaves violently and he begins to retch up whatever food made its way into his stomach the night before.  
  
"Oh my god, Blaine," Kurt says, making a face but not pulling away from where he is sitting, gently rubbing Blaine's back. "It smells like you walked into a distillery and drank it. There are better ways to cope with your problems. Next time just talk to me first, okay? Let me help you."  
  
"You helped last night," Blaine mutters, gasping in air as soon as he has the chance. Kurt just rubs his back again and moves the trash can away, pausing a moment to grab a box of Kleenex so Blaine can wipe his mouth.  
  
There's a knock at the door and Carole is there, entering somewhat cautiously.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt," she says. "But Burt mentioned Blaine was up here and that he...wasn't feeling well. I wanted to see what I could do to help."  
  
"Blaine got pretty upset last night," Kurt starts, but before he can go any further, Blaine grabs at his arm and mutters,  
  
"Please don't say anything. Please Kurt, I can't – I've never told anyone else. No one else knows and I don't want..."  
  
"It's okay Blaine," Kurt hushes, pushing Blaine's hair off his forehead. "Carole just wants to make sure you're feeling okay. If I don't tell them about the party I'm sure Finn will, but the stuff in the car is just between us, alright? No one needs to know everything right away."  
  
Carole's forehead is creased in concern as she walks over to the curtains and draws them shut, mercifully cutting the glare in the room by half.  
  
"You still look pretty rough sweetheart," She says. "I'm going to get a cold compress for your head, and some pain killers. Kurt? Your father is just outside. He said he wanted to speak with you."  
  
Carole wasn't kidding when she said Burt was "just outside." No sooner had Kurt left the room when Blaine heard Burt's voice saying,  
  
"What happened to just friends, Kurt? Since when do 'just friends' sneak into my son's bedroom late at night and crawl into bed with him?"  
  
"You're overreacting, Dad," Kurt says tersely. "I understand it's a little unexpected to see Blaine here, but one look in that room should be enough to tell you that none of the scenarios going through your head right now are even the slightest bit plausible."  
  
"Kurt," Burt says, and his voice is very strained. "There is a drunk boy sleeping in your bed. Why do you have a drunk boy in your bed? You weren't even out last night!"  
  
"He was out," Comes a third, sleepy voice. "I called him to come to the party. Well, not to the party at Rachel's, but to the second party everyone went to after. Blaine needed a ride."  
  
"A ride?" Burt repeats. "Is my son running a drive-a-drunk taxi service now and no one told me about it? And why didn't you just take him home?"  
  
"Don't be mad, Burt," Finn says. "I have an extra toothbrush from the dentist we can give him, and we didn't know what else to do. We got to the second party and he was scaring the crap out of everyone. He's been acting super weird at school the last few days and last night he was drunk and crying and saying all these awful things."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"He was talking about his shitty life and his mean dad hating him and how he hates himself too, because he's gay," Finn says, and Blaine winces a little, because it's not the pleasantest thing to hear his breakdown coming from the painfully matter-of-fact Finn. "He started talking about killing himself and we all thought it was dangerous to let him go off alone. Kurt's the best friend Blaine has. If I was feeling that bad about my life, I'd want my best friend to be there with me, so I called Kurt."  
  
"He was talking about suicide?" Burt asks, and his tone more concerned than angry.  
  
"I don't know if he actually meant it," Kurt admits. "But he's really hurting right now, I'm not just going to send him away. You raised me better than that."  
  
"Think he'll be okay?" Burt asks.  
  
"I thought I'd wait to see how he was doing sober before I decided," Kurt says. "He told me some...other things too, after I took him out of the party. It was all very private, but it scared the shit out of me, Dad. I just – I need another chance to talk to him, when he's feeling better. I need to make sure he's going to be okay."  
  
Carole pops back into the room then, her mouth a thin line of displeasure.  
  
"Okay, sweetie," she says, sliding a hand behind Blaine's shoulders and helping him upright, just like Kurt had. She hands him a couple of pills and the biggest glass of water he's ever seen. "I want you to take these and drink this whole glass of water, alright?"  
  
He notices she's brought a fresh garbage pail in with her and she smiles when she sees what he's looking at.  
  
"Small sips," she says. "And you should be fine. There's no point in taking any unnecessary chances though."  
  
Blaine drinks the water slowly and things do get a little iffy at one point, but Carole takes the glass from him and tells him to take a few deep breaths and he manages to finish the rest of it without any more trouble. Carole helps him lie back down and settles a cool cloth over his eyes.  
  
"Lie quiet for now," she instructs. "I'll be back soon with some more water and to see how you're doing."  
  
The room is silent after she leaves. Blaine can faintly hear the sound of voices coming from another part of the house but can't make out what they are saying. Slowly he closes his eyes and drifts back into merciful sleep.  
  
***  
  
The next time Blaine wakes up he's fairly certain that he's at least sober, but he still feels pretty awful. The bed is dipping down as someone lies down next to him and rests a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Feeling any better?" Kurt's voice asks him softly.  
  
Blaine grunts noncommittally.  
  
"I hope that was a yes," Kurt says mischievously. "Because I thought I'd see if you were up for a little late breakfast. Anything you're in the mood for? Eggs and bacon, maybe? Hash browns?"  
  
Blaine moans louder and his stomach pitches.  
  
"If he threw up on you right now, you'd deserve it," Blaine hears Burt say from the foot of the bed.  
  
"What?" Kurt demands. "Greasy foods help hangovers. I know. I asked the people on Yahoo Answers what I could do to help."  
  
Blaine smiles a little as he pulls the cloth off his face and tries not to wince at the light.  
  
"Geez kid," Burt comments, looking at him worriedly. "It's still that bad? You really did a lot of damage last night. Kurt should have taken you to get your stomach pumped instead of bringing you back here."  
  
"I feel better now," Blaine protests, a little weakly. He glances at the alarm clock. It's one in the afternoon.  
  
"Shit," he says, trying to get to his feet. "I need to go home."  
  
"Wait!" Kurt says, reaching out to keep him put. He sounds a little scared. "You're not in good enough shape to go anywhere yet. Just call and let him know you're okay."  
  
"He doesn't care if I'm okay," Blaine says, because he figures Burt knows about the volatile side of his relationship with his father by now. "Besides, my phone died last night."  
  
"You know, phones did exist before someone invented the iPhone," Burt comments dryly, although he still looks a little worried. "Do you want me to give him a call for you?"  
  
Blaine shakes his head. Tom is going to be livid no matter when Blaine speaks to him. He may as well delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Burt is still looking at him with the same intense, worried stare. It makes Blaine nervous.  
  
"Sorry about all the trouble I caused this morning," he says, sitting up and glancing down at his hands.  
  
"Blaine," Burt is blunt and to the point. "Finn and Kurt were telling me what you were saying at the party last night. And Kurt still hasn't told me what you two talked about afterward, but he was pretty shook up about it, and much as I would like to be wrong, based on everything else that I've heard I've got a pretty good idea what I'm not being told. Are all the things you were saying about your home life true?"  
  
Blaine nods because he's pretty sure Burt will be able to see through a lie anyhow. If he admits to just enough, maybe he won't have to tell them everything. Burt is silent for a moment, apparently lost in thought about something. It's making Blaine tense. He has no idea what is going to happen next, but Kurt reaches over and grabs onto his hand, and that helps.  
  
Burt makes an angry noise.  
  
"Right," he says. "We're going to report your dad to CPS."  
  
"What?" Blaine says, alarmed. "No! You can't do that,  _please_  don't do that. There are things – it's complicated but they won't let me stay with him. They'll put me in foster care or something and I can't do that, I  _can't_."  
  
Blaine feels like he's trapped in a nightmare, because maybe Tom is right and maybe there is no way for things to get better for him. Kurt's family are the most trustworthy people he knows, and they actually think what they're suggesting would be an improvement. Kurt starts telling Blaine to calm down, that "everything will be okay," and "just trust us," but Blaine looks Burt squarely in the eye.  
  
"If you talk to CPS or the cops or  _anyone_ , we'll be gone before they get here. I'll let my dad know and we'll just leave. I won't let anyone force me into the system. I can't live like that."  
  
Suddenly Burt nods to himself, like he's just come to a decision.  
  
"I was talking to Carole about this at lunch," he says. "We're both in agreement that you shouldn't be going back there, and Kurt seemed to think you might react this way about CPS. Even if you won't report your father, it's not safe or right for you to live with him. We'd like you to stay with us instead."  
  
"What?" The room is suddenly spinning again. Blaine can't get his bearings. "Just like that?"  
  
"You're 16, right?" Burt says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "Legally you're allowed to be on your own, but you're still too young to fend for yourself, and you're just a kid. You need a family. Right now you're not getting what you need and this seems like the best solution for everyone."  
  
"But my dad," Blaine begins, and Kurt interrupts.  
  
"Your dad needs help, Blaine," he says. "I understand that you love him and you don't want to abandon him, but the way things are right now isn't helping the problem. It sounds it's only making everything worse. Maybe losing you could be what finally convinces him that he needs to change. A good father protects his kids, he doesn't hurt them."  
  
Blaine sits completely still in the bed, blinking rapidly as he tries to hold back tears.  
  
"You don't know me," is what he finally says. "Other people have tried to be my family before you and it hasn't worked. I'm not saying you aren't serious about what you're offering, but Tom – my dad – is the only person who can deal with me. No one else has been able to stick it out."  
  
"I don't know you, you're right," Burt says. He points to Kurt. "But that kid right there? I know him, and I trust him. He says you are more than worth the risk, and I believe what he tells me. You're not a lost cause, Blaine. You're a kid who's had a very hard life and who deserves a better one."  
  
"I can't just leave him," Blaine says, and he can't, right? Blaine has always stayed with Tom because no one else ever wanted him. Hearing Kurt's family tell him the opposite is as confusing as hearing someone speaking to him in ancient Sumerian.   
  
"This doesn't have to be your life anymore, Blaine," Kurt says. "You deserve more than this."  
  
"I..." Blaine has no idea what he should say, what decision he should be making. Finally he says, "Can I think about it first? Can I let you know later, in a couple days maybe?"  
  
"It's a lot for you to take in," Burt says. "I get that. You take the time you need. But if you decide to say no, don't think that you can never take us up on it further down the road. The offer is always on the table, okay?"  
  
Blaine nods, and Kurt starts herding him out of the bed and slowly leading him to the kitchen, muttering about getting some food and a few more glasses of water into him. He starts to let himself wonder what it would be like if this place ever became his home.  
  
***  
  
He doesn't leave Kurt's house until almost seven o'clock that evening. They spend a lot of time catching up, even though not much has really happened to either of them in the short time Blaine stopped talking to him. The few things he told Kurt the night before about the sex hasn't really come up again at all, aside from a few moments when Kurt will interrupt whatever it is they're talking about to say things like, "None of it was your fault. You know that, right?"  
  
They don't talk much about what they both said about their feelings for each other either, but Blaine guesses that maybe they're letting on more about that than they'd like, when Finn walks past them at one point and finally rolls his eyes, saying,  
  
"You two sure blush a whole lot for people who aren't doing anything even a little fun."  
  
Still, it's a pretty good afternoon, and even though Blaine's more hung over than he's been in a very long time, it's easily one of the best days he can ever remember having. He knows he's said he needs some time to think about the offer that's been extended to him, and Blaine  _will_  think about it before he answers, but he pretty certain he's going to say yes.  
  
Tom has always said that legally he doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to keeping Blaine. It's the reason he's always been so careful to make sure Blaine stays out of the spotlight. If they were caught it would mean nothing but trouble for both of them, but now Tom seems to care so little for him, Blaine honestly wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn't be glad to see him go, and now that foster care isn't Blaine's only option, there doesn't seem to be any downside to leaving.  
  
"Promise you'll call me tonight when you're back home," Kurt says, as he walks outside with Blaine onto the front porch.  
  
"I promise," Blaine says, rolling his eyes a little, because at this point it really does seem like Kurt is worrying about nothing. It doesn't matter how angry Tom is when he gets back, knowing that this will be one of the last times he ever has to deal with him.  
  
"Kurt?" He says, he feels a little nervous, but he's been thinking about this a lot today, and everything has been going so well, it would seem stupid not to try. "Thank you again. For everything you've done for me. I never thought any of this could ever get better for me. I can't begin to explain how much it means."  
  
"I just want you to be happy and safe, Blaine," Kurt says. "It's not right that you've been forced to live the way you have been."  
  
Blaine pulls him in for a hug and it's such a foreign thing to be the one initiating contact that Blaine almost doesn't know how to go about it. Kurt doesn't hesitate though and hugs him back, hard, easing away any of the awkwardness Blaine is feeling. Kurt is starting to pull away when Blaine stops him, keeping them close together.  
  
"Um," he says. "Sorry. I just..."  
  
He trails off and puts a hand on Kurt's face, which has gone a little red, but Blaine's pretty sure not in a bad way.  
  
"Can I?" He asks uncertainly, not really sure how people go about these sorts of things, but figuring Kurt probably doesn't know that much either, so he really has nothing to lose. Kurt nods his head just a fraction and Blaine leans in, their lips brushing against each other.  
  
It's amazing, and Blaine has to take back what he had thought seconds earlier about Kurt not knowing what he was doing, because Kurt? Is an  _amazing_  kisser. He's not too forceful or too passive, he buries his hands in Blaine's hair in a way that is the most amazing thing Blaine has ever felt. He doesn't feel sick or used or dirty. He's just happy.  
  
When they finally pull away, Kurt is beaming too.  
  
"If you do that in front of my dad he's going to make you stay in Finn's room," He says, a little breathlessly. Blaine just smiles at him.  
  
"I always wanted to know what it would feel like to do that for real," he says.  
  
For a moment he's sure he's destroyed the mood, because sadness clouds Kurt's eyes again and he looks like Blaine has been kicking little puppies in front of him, but then a look of determination settles across his features and he pulls Blaine back in for another kiss, shorter this time.  
  
"Call me when you've decided to tell Tom," he says, firmly. "I'll help you pack up your things. We can use the Navigator."  
  
"I will," Blaine promises. At this point, there's no reason for either of them to pretend that he hasn't already made his decision.  
  
***  
  
Blaine knows Tom will be mad when he gets in. After all, Blaine has blatantly disobeyed one of Tom's orders and then effectively severed their only means of communication with each other by not bothering to call after his phone dies. Still, nothing prepares him for what's waiting when he unlocks the door to their rental.  
  
The house is in total disarray; books and articles of clothing are scattered everywhere, and when Blaine looks into the kitchen almost every single piece of dinnerware is lying on the floor in pieces. He hears a door slam from another part of the house and suddenly Tom is there, not saying a word, just staring at Blaine like he'd like to break him in half.  
  
"Dad?" He asks. "It something wrong?"  
  
"You ungrateful little shit," Tom seethes, and suddenly he's grabbing Blaine by the hair and throwing him face first into the wall. "I've given my  _life_  to you and this is how you decide to repay me?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine says instantly, because when his dad gets like this, the easiest way to fix things is to start apologizing incessantly and hope that eventually one of them gets through the blinding rage Tom has fallen into. Blaine is yanked back and thrown onto the ground.  
  
"What is wrong with you?" Tom screams, kicking Blaine in the side a little for good measure. "For over 24 hours I've been trying to reach you. 24 hours, Blaine!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine repeats, digging around in his pockets and weakly holding up his phone as proof. "It died and I couldn't charge it again. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know."  
  
"I'm sick of you and your excuses," Tom says. "I swear to god, it's like you're trying to get me in trouble."  
  
"I'm sorry about the phone," Blaine says again, but Tom cuts him off.  
  
"Forget the fucking phone," he says, ripping the phone out of Blaine's hand and throwing it against the wall as hard as he can. It shatters into pieces. "Have you been going to Westerville?"  
  
"What?" Blaine says, because this has come out of nowhere. "Why?"  
  
"Answer the fucking question!" Tom shouts.   
  
"Why do you care about where I go?" Blaine knows it's stupid to keep Tom waiting, but for the life of him he can't figure out why Tom suddenly cares about Blaine's activities when ever since he gave Blaine his name back almost a year and a half ago, he's cared less and less about what Blaine does and with who.  
  
"Did you think I wouldn't find out what you were doing?" Tom asks, picking up the first thing he sets his hand on – a textbook of Blaine's – and throwing it right at Blaine, who barely has time to shelter his head with his arms. "Where you were going? I saw one of the pamphlets for the snobby rich school fall right out of your book bag, Blaine. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."  
  
"I'm sorry!" Blaine says, shouting a little to be heard over the tirade. "Yes, I went to Westerville, okay? A friend started going to school there and I went a few times to visit. I didn't know that I was doing something wrong. What's so bad about Westerville?"  
  
"I shouldn't have to fucking tell you to stay away from that town, Blaine," Tom says.   
  
He grabs Blaine by the collar and drags him down the hallway. Blaine tries to stand, but Tom moves too fast to get his feet back under him. He can't breathe and his head has switched back from a dull ache to an angry roar.  
  
The door to his bedroom opens and Tom shoves him inside.  
  
"Start packing," he barks. "We're leaving Ohio."  
  
"What?" Blaine says, his heart lurching. "No. No, I can't leave Ohio."  
  
"Why the hell not?" Tom snaps. "Are you lying to me about Westerville? You sure there's not someone keeping you there?"  
  
 _Yes, there_  is  _someone at Westerville that's keeping me here,_  Blaine thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud. He has no idea what's gotten into Tom, but he knows something has scared him, and when that happens he doesn't listen to reason, he just runs.  
  
"I'm not ready to leave yet," he tries. "I need time to pack properly, and we can't just break our lease. Where are we going? Do we have a new place to stay? And what about your job?"  
  
"Really Blaine?" Tom scoffs. "This is the crap you're trying to hand me? You're acting like I've never left a job without handing in my notice before."  
  
"I'll need a couple days to pack all our things," Blaine tries again.  _I need a couple days for you to calm down enough so you'll listen when I tell you I'm going to stay in Lima. I need time to run if you're not going to let me._  
  
He's not prepared for the blow to his face when it comes, and Blaine's head snaps back as the pain flares all over.  
  
"I've had it with your excuses," Tom says, and his voice has suddenly gotten very calm and level. "I've put everything we need in the car. Anything I've forgotten that's worth taking I'll be back for next weekend. The rest of this shit can stay where we've left it. You have 10 minutes, Blaine. I want to see you packed and ready – waiting for me in that car. If you aren't there, I will break your neck."  
  
The scariest thing is Blaine absolutely believes him.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, read the warnings, for the love of all things holy.

The drive out of Lima is a tense one. Blaine still doesn't understand what's happening, he doesn't know what he did that was so wrong. Tom has never been angry like this before. He didn't even have time to pack. On the floor at his feet there's a backpack with the few belongings he could see to grab: some clothes, a toothbrush, the old toy elephant. He's pretty sure he'll never see the rest of his things again.  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine keeps whispering from his hunched over spot in the passenger seat. "I'm sorry."  
  
He can't remember the last time he's been so scared. Tom gets mad a lot. He loses his temper, throws things, hits and kicks, but this is so different from all those other times. Tom gets mad at Blaine when he thinks Blaine wants to leave. He lashes out because he wants to teach Blaine that leaving is bad, that they have to stick together. He's angry at the idea of Blaine gone, but not Blaine himself. Now it's like Tom truly hates Blaine. A hysterical part of Blaine wonders if he somehow found out about the kiss. Is kissing Kurt cheating on Tom?  
  
Kurt. Blaine thinks about his cell phone, lying in pieces on the floor of their old rental house. He never bothered learning Kurt's number, and the realization washes over him in a wave. He may never talk to Kurt again. Just a week ago he'd been preparing himself for that and had accepted it as inevitable, but that was before they'd kissed. Before he'd told Kurt, and before Kurt made him believe that just maybe Blaine's life didn't have to be this.  
  
Blaine feels like he's been handed freedom, happiness, and his own space in the universe where he finally belongs, and now it's all been taken away again. It hurts. Blaine feels the ache with each intake of breath. Once again there's no one but Tom, his future so narrow it's like it's not there at all.  
  
Tom doesn't answer a single one of Blaine's pleas the entire drive. It's late at night by the time they stop. They're in Morgantown, West Virginia. Blaine remembers it from some time long ago when they stayed there for a summer. It's a quiet, unobtrusive place, just big enough for most people to mind their own business, but not a major centre by any stretch. It's a good place to go unnoticed. The house they pull up to is old and in poor repair, isolated from its nearest neighbours. That looks familiar to him, too. He seems to remember something about it belonging to a cousin of Tom's who rarely ever visits it, likely because the place is an eyesore and wouldn't have been that nice brand new, let alone how it looks right now.  
  
"Dad?" Blaine asks, reaching out to cautiously grab onto Tom's arm. He just wants some kind of response, anything. Tom could hit him again if he wants to, Blaine just can't handle feeling like he doesn't exist.  
  
"Get inside now," Tom finally growls tossing the keys almost in Blaine's face. Blaine scrambles to do as he's told.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind he hears Kurt as he pushes open the rusty screen door.  _This doesn't have to be your life anymore, Blaine. You deserve more than this._  
  
He shakes the thoughts out of his head. Later. He will think about Kurt and the things Kurt promised him later, when his world isn't falling apart, when Tom isn't angry anymore. When Tom is on his side again. The door slams shut behind him and Tom is roughly grabbing Blaine, spinning him around and putting his hands all over him, forcing him towards a bedroom. It hurts and Tom is trying to make it hurt. Blaine can hear his own voice crying out in pain like he's somewhere outside of his body, like his body isn't his own anymore. It feels closer to that time with the security guard than anything else ever has. It's like it's not even his dad anymore.   
  
After Tom is finished he locks the door behind him on the way out and Blaine almost starts to laugh when he hears it click into place. He can't believe he thought Tom would just let him go. He never should have left the Hummel's. He looks over to the window, briefly entertains the thought of climbing out and finding the nearest phone, but he's so tired. His head hurts and every movement makes his body scream out in protest. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep instead.  
  
***  
  
Tom doesn't avoid Blaine or act guilty or try to make things up to him this time. He doesn't come into the room at all. Blaine can hear him in other parts of the house making phone calls and talking to people but it's like Blaine isn't even there, or like Tom has forgotten about him.   
  
At first Blaine doesn't mind. He's tired and in pain and just the thought of Tom coming close to him makes him cringe. The bedroom connects to a bathroom with running tap water (the second door into the rest of the house also carefully locked), so Blaine has access to water whenever he needs to crawl out of bed and drink something. He feels too sick and uneasy to try to eat so he doesn't mind going without food.  
  
He spends his time thinking about Kurt and his family, and how he's going to go back to them as soon as he can figure out a way to get back to Lima. He figures he'll steal some money from Tom to start with, and then maybe he'll buy a bus ticket back to Ohio. Kurt will now there's something wrong by now, he would have known as soon as Blaine didn't call him back, so maybe he's already looking for him, but Blaine knows they'll never find anything. Tom has always been able to fly under the radar when he doesn't want to be noticed.  
  
He thinks a lot about his real parents a lot, too. Maybe it's because the only thing in the room that's his own is the backpack full of clothes and the stuffed elephant. Horton has gotten pretty beat up over the years. Blaine slept with it every night until he was 13 and the yellow plush has faded into dirty and unpleasant gray. It was never very well made to begin with, and the stuffing has become compressed and lopsided. He's about the saddest looking stuffed toy Blaine's ever seen.  
  
He's forgotten a lot of how he came to get it. He remembers Tom telling him over and over that the elephant was a goodbye present from his dad, and Blaine sort of remembers seeing it in a claw machine and asking for it. Growing up Tom liked to use Horton as a way to remind Blaine that his parents didn't want him anymore. Blaine never says it out loud, but he's always looked at the toy as proof that his parents didn't always hate him. Something must have happened after the toy that made them give up on him, but before that they still cared and Horton is proof. He wonders if he'll ever get the chance to find them and learn what happened after he goes back to Kurt's.  
  
Eventually Tom quits the silent treatment long enough to go to McDonalds and get Blaine some food a few days later. Blaine hasn't eaten anything real for almost 4 days and is ravenous. He eats the food but is glad he's not the one to break first and ask for help. He never wants to ask Tom for anything ever again.  
  
"I need you to come back to Lima with me this Friday," Tom says as he sits at the foot of the bed and watches Blaine eat. "I need you to help me with something."  
  
"What can I do?" Blaine says immediately, because he'll say anything to get to Lima. There's no way Kurt hasn't contacted someone to be watching for him, and even though Blaine still doesn't like cops, they're not as scary when he knows he has someone who will take him away from them after they've served their purpose. All he has to do is get an officer's attention or make a break for it and everything will be fine.  
  
"There's someone down there we need to pick up," Tom says. "I need you to help me get him."  
  
Something about the way he says it sounds strange, like he's getting ready to convince Blaine, even though Blaine's already said he'll help.  
  
"Who are we picking up?" He asks.  
  
"I've been talking to a few guys," Tom says. "Watching some people. There's a family down there who've been having some trouble. One of the guys at the place I worked lost his job and things have gotten really rough. I thought we could help them out."  
  
Something is very, very wrong with this. Tom doesn't do good things for other people. He's never cared about anyone but himself. He never would have taken Blaine if it meant having to keep his hands off him. Suddenly Blaine is wishing he hadn't eaten anything after all.  
  
"Who are we picking up?" he asks.  
  
Tom grins at him.  
  
"I always used to say I wanted a bigger family one day," he says. "I'm finally doing something about it. We're going to get you a new brother."  
  
Blaine knows the smart thing to do is smile and keep agreeing to go along with this. After all, he just needs to get to Lima and then he never needs to care about what Tom does ever again. He shouldn't have to care about what happens after, he just needs to focus on saving himself. But he's spent the last several days with nothing better to do than replay all the things he and Kurt have talked about over and over in his head, and now all he can hear is,  _You're not 7 anymore; you've probably gotten too old for him._  
  
"You can't do that," he blurts out.  
  
Tom glares at him.  
  
"I'm trying to save this family, Blaine," he says. "You're not the kid you used to be and I am willing to do what it takes to get that kid back."  
  
"So your answer is what, just go out and grab another one?" Blaine says, his voice rising in his panic. "I didn't change, dad. I'm the same person I was before, I just hit goddamn puberty! Do you want me to have a brother, or do you want to see if it's hotter having sex with a teenager if you're both raping a little kid, too? I'm not like you, I won't touch a kid like that, and I won't help you do anything. Does this family even know you're planning on helping them out, or were you just planning on siccing me on him like an attack dog and dragging him back into the car for you?"  
  
Tom slaps him across the mouth, but Blaine can't stop yelling at him, even for a minute.  
  
"Is that how you helped my parents, dad? Did you hear me saying something stupid one day and decide, 'Well that kid's no good, I'll just take him off their hands'? I was  _happy_  before you took me away. Happy families don't just give away their kids, you're not planning on them packing an overnight bag before you pick him up in their driveway."  
  
Blaine wants to say more, but Tom is angry like he's never seen before and he's straddling Blaine on the bed, pinning him down and reigning down blow after blow to his head and chest. Blaine tries to fight him off, the first time he's ever remembered fighting back at all, but he hasn't eaten for half a fucking week and can't find the energy to throw Tom off.  
  
"If you want to ruin another kid do it yourself," he wheezes out. "You don't want a family, you want a fucking harem and I'm not sick enough to help you get one."  
  
It's not long after that he loses consciousness, a furious Tom still hitting him.  
  
***  
  
When Blaine wakes up he hurts so bad he can barely make it the closest garbage basket before he throws up. Every time he shifts his ribs stop him short as they almost make him white out in pain. He distractedly wonders if his chest is actually collapsing, and when he tries to sit up on his hands his wrists protests so violently he almost screams. His vision is spinning and every sound seems to echo inside his ears. He feels drunk and hung over and it's hard to keep his eyes open. He remembers Tom beating him, but he can't remember why.  
  
When the memories of Tom's new plan finally start to come back to him in fits and starts, he almost wishes they hadn't. He staggers into the bathroom and throws up again, into the toilet this time. He doesn't feel like he'll ever be able to stop, even when he's just dry heaving and nothing new is coming up. Blaine is terrified and the worst part is he's not entirely sure he knows why.  
  
He doesn't want to be a part of this, and the look on Tom's face when he told Blaine about his new brother leaves very little doubt in Blaine's mind that Tom won't be willing to accept "Leave me out of it" as an acceptable response. Tom's always been taken with the idea of calling the shots from a distance, and has made Blaine watch hours of pornography dedicated to one guy dictating what the two active players do to each other. For a while Tom would try to suggest it would be something they should try when they watched, saying things like, "It would be so hot to see someone else doing that to you," or "Doesn't that look like it would be fun?"  
  
Blaine has always been afraid to go against anything Tom suggests, scared that one misstep will get him thrown out and at the mercy of other people like Tom's friend from that first year. However, thanks to that same friend, the one thing he's never been able to go along with again is Tom inviting strange people over to do things with him. Even the suggestion used to lead to Blaine crying uncontrollably and a new bout of nightmares resulting in weeks of wetting the bed and waking up in tears. After a while, Tom gave up on suggesting it altogether, although he never lets Blaine stop watching the videos.   
  
Even before Kurt told Blaine in no uncertain terms he's not turning into Tom, Blaine has always known that actively forcing a small child into sex is something he will never be capable of. Corrupting someone his own age is already a big enough fear; the idea of helping groom someone for sex when they haven't even hit puberty is beyond horrifying to Blaine.  
  
Blaine wishes the fear of what Tom will inevitably ask him to do to this new little boy is the only reason he's currently throwing up into a toilet, but the truth is it's only part of it. He knows he doesn't want to be a part of Tom's life anymore, that he doesn't need Tom the way he always thought he did. Knowing that once he manages to walk out of this life he has a better one waiting for him with Kurt is one of the only things keeping him going at all, but still underneath all that certainty is an unsettling feeling of betrayal as well. Tom has found someone else to replace him, and unless Blaine figures out something to prove his worth here he's going to lose his father completely.  
  
He knows it's stupid and insane, but he's spent years making Tom the centre of his life, trying to do as much as humanely possible to make sure Tom kept loving him. Blaine's always known his dad's love is conditional, even when Tom doesn't seem to. Tom tossing him aside and giving up on him has always been one of Blaine's biggest fears, and now it's really happening.  
  
It doesn't matter that something better is waiting for Blaine or that he's more than ready to give up on Tom. His dad has decided Blaine isn't good enough anymore and he doesn't deserve any more chances to make it up to him. Blaine's getting replaced before he has a chance to replace Tom and he knows he shouldn't hate this new kid, that he should pity him, but there's a part of him that is honest-to-god jealous. Because Blaine doesn't want to be an afterthought to Tom. Almost as much as he wants to leave, he wants to leave him with the knowledge that his departure means something, that Blaine's leaving  _matters_. He wants Tom to be hurt, just once, by something he does, and now that will never happen. Blaine hasn't even left yet and he's already been forgotten.  
  
Blaine eventually leaves his space in the bathroom to try the locks on all the doors he can find, because he may not want to be expendable, but in the end the one thing he wants more than anything is to get away, to go back to a place where he's wanted and cared for, and where he can trust the people around him not to hurt him the way he's spent over half his life being hurt.  
  
The doors are all locked still, and he thinks maybe if he felt better he could knock one down and make a break for it, but right now he can barely stand upright long enough to pull on the handle. The windows in the bedroom are barred, just like they were in all the first houses Blaine was taken to when he was little, like Tom has set places up in advance to deal with unwilling children and the realization makes him laugh a little. He wonders blearily if he was the first kid Tom ever stole, or if there were others before him.  
  
It takes him a minute to realize the implications of what he's just thought, and of what he shouted at Tom earlier. When he does he sits down heavily on the bed, heart pounding in his chest. He's never really considered the idea that his parents hadn't willingly written him off when he was little. Blaine sees stories about missing children on the news every day, watches the parents cry and beg and plead for information about their lost sons and daughters. They want their kids back so badly it makes Blaine's heart hurt.  
  
As terrible as it is to watch crying moms and dads looking for their loved ones, Blaine knows that eventually they almost always find what they're looking for, even if they rarely find them the way they want to.  
  
"Some asshole has a little fun with them then snaps their necks and shoves them into a garbage bag," Tom once commented angrily, noticing when Blaine stopped channel surfing to watch a story about an Amber Alert. "If it's not a parent who's lost custody, it's an idiot who wants some action but doesn't want to take the time to do things properly. That kid is either dead in a ditch somewhere or having the time of their lives in Disneyland."  
  
He's always been so willing to track these stories with Blaine that Blaine has always assumed Tom doesn't have anything to hide so far has he's concerned. Blaine never sees any stories about himself because it's just like Tom's always said: no one has ever tried to get him back. Blaine's always been certain his parents could track him down again if they really wanted to, because he's always been certain Tom's never avoided them, only the red tape involved with officially becoming his guardian.   
  
But now that he really lets himself think about it, for the first couple years he was with Tom, Blaine didn't have much contact with the outside world at all. Tom never had any TVs good for anything that wasn't watching a DVD, he never got the paper or had a computer that was left anywhere Blaine could reach. He never even had a landline. When Blaine started to go back to school none of the kids in his class cared about the news and no teacher bothered to tell them about the latest abduction cases in other parts of the country. Even the national news outlets never pay much attention to local kidnappings, unless the kid has famous parents, or is a sweet, sad-looking little blonde girl.  
  
That night when Blaine falls asleep he has nightmares about his parents looking for him while he sits there passively, never doing anything to help them find him. He dreams about running to his parents and not being recognised, because he's not the little boy they remember and want back. He dreams about being turned away, for real this time, and it's all his fault for believing a liar.  
  
***  
  
Early the next morning Blaine starts talking to Tom through the door. He doesn't exactly know what he hopes to gain by getting on Tom's good side at this point, but it seems important that he do so. He'd like to get to Lima, or at least out of the house so he can make a break for it and get some help, but the last thing he wants is to get caught, or give Tom enough warning to get away.  
  
The problem is he's not the only one in trouble now. Somewhere there's a kid out there who Tom's been watching and getting ready for. If he doesn't take this kid he'll take another one sometime soon and Blaine knows Tom better than anyone. Who is he to let this kid get taken when he can be the one who stops it?   
  
He hasn't been able to stop thinking about his first time with Tom since he heard what's going to be happening in a few days. Blaine can't remember exactly when it happened, or how old he was (Blaine doesn't really know how old he is now, let alone how old he was then). But he thinks about how scared he was and how much it hurt, how he would have given anything to see his parents. So much of what's happened to him over the years has faded, but the way he felt the first time he had sex is still so strong in his memory.   
  
In some ways he wonders if it was worse than what happened with Tom's friend, because at least that time Blaine knew what was going to happen. Nothing could have prepared him for the first time Tom slept with him though, and the idea of letting another kid the same age he was or maybe even younger go through the same thing is worse than never seeing Kurt again. It's worse than the idea of staying with Tom for good.  
  
Blaine wants to grab Tom and lock him up, helpless and with no way of escaping until the cops are sent to let him out. He wants to beat Tom until he bleeds and make him hurt as much as Blaine has over the years. He wants to keep Tom away from anyone he could end up destroying. But Blaine hasn't eaten a meal that he's been able to keep down for almost a week. His ribs scream in protest when he moves and his wrist is almost useless it's so tender to the touch. Yesterday he'd tried to wash his hair in the shower and not only did it take him a good hour and a half, for a while there he's pretty sure he almost drowned himself. There's no way he can do anything to Tom right now. The only option he has is trying to get on Tom's good side and maybe distracting him from going through with his plans. So Blaine starts calling as soon as he hears movement in the other rooms.  
  
"Dad?" He says. "Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I just got scared. Please don't hate me."  
  
He takes a deep breath and tries not to think about the words as he says them.  
  
"I wanted to be enough for you. I didn't want you to stop loving me or need anyone else. I'm sorry I'm not the son you wanted. I promise to try harder. Dad? Please don't hate me."  
  
He wipes at his face and tries to catch his breath. He hates that he's telling Tom all the things he wants to hear. He hates that he isn't lying when he says them. Most of all he just hates himself, and Tom. Tom doesn't answer, so Blaine keeps talking. He talks and talks for almost an hour until he hears the front door slam shut and the car start up. Then he drags himself back to bed and falls into an exhausted sleep.  
  
When he opens his eyes again it's to the door closing and the lock clicking back into place. There's a McDonald's bag on the end table beside him again. It's not the forgiveness Blaine was hoping for but it's a start.  
  
***  
  
Tom still doesn't talk to him, although Blaine occasionally goes to the door to call out more apologies, and promises to behave himself. The next day – Blaine thinks it might be Saturday, but it's hard to tell – Tom comes in with more food and sits on the foot of the bed to look at Blaine, just like he'd done days before. Blaine looks at him expectantly.  
  
"I'm going to Lima today," he says. "I can't stop back at the apartment – I spoke with Frank from down the street the other day and he said there were officers all over the place the day after we left – probably writing up the damage to the rental."  
  
 _Or following up on the report Kurt and his dad filed as soon as I didn't call_ , Blaine thinks.  
  
"Anyhow, I don't want to risk you coming back with me, just in case. I don't want them to see you."  
  
Blaine feels like crying, but tries to hide it.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asks. "I just want to help you."  
  
"I have things you can do when he's back home with us," Tom says, looking at Blaine hard. It feels like a test because it is one, so Blaine nods, slowly.  
  
"I don't want to do anything with anyone that isn't you," he tries, his eyes watering in spite of himself. "I don't know if I can."  
  
"What if it's what I want you to do?" Tom asks. "Don't you want to make me happy?"  
  
"I want you to be happy," Blaine says, forcing out the words as he desperately casts around for a believable excuse. Thankfully as he stifles a sob a very good one presents itself as he doubles over and clutches at his ribs.  
  
"That doesn't sound too good," Tom says, frowning like he's not the one who did this in the first place. "Lie down and let me look."  
  
Blaine complies and Tom pokes and prods Blaine's rib cage for a while, finally noting,  
  
"You're probably going to be pretty sore for a while but I think they'll heal. Anything else I should know about?"  
  
"I can't move my hand," Blaine admits, holding up his right hand for Tom to see. It's still swollen and deeply bruised, and he can't squeeze his fingers closed around Tom's when he's told to try. Tom grabs Blaine's food and helps him out of the bed, leading him into the bathroom.  
  
"Come on," He says. "Have a seat in here, I'll go get you some ice."  
  
He's back a few moments later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel. He fusses over Blaine's hand for a minute before saying.  
  
"You're not much good to me at all right now, Blaine. I wish you hadn't let things come to this, because I really could have used you, but I appreciate that you're trying harder now."  
  
He stands up and looks down at Blaine, who tries not to cower away from his seat on the toilet.  
  
"I'll be back soon, but I don't want you to scare this little guy when I bring him back. I know you want me to be happy, but if you can't help hold him when he comes in, I don't want you interfering when I show him the place. I think it will be better for everyone if you just wait here."  
  
"Here in Morgantown?" Blaine asks, a little confused. He's got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"No, right here," Tom says, his face hardening a little as he starts to back out of the tiny washroom.  
  
"What?" Blaine says, the reality of what Tom is saying hitting him. "No, no you can't leave me in here. I'll be good, Dad. I swear I'll be good. What if something happens? How am I supposed to get out?"  
  
He starts to stand up, but Tom starts to look angry again, so he sits back down.  
  
"If something happens you're just as trapped in here as you are in the bedroom," Tom says, which is unfortunately true. "I know you're very sorry for your behaviour these last few days, but sorry doesn't earn my trust back. You've always had to learn things the hard way, Blaine. I don't want you ruining anything for me, so if you really want to show me how you've changed, you will sit in here quietly until I come back to let you out."  
  
Blaine sits quietly. The door that swings out into the bedroom never used to lock from Tom's side, but Blaine's seen the padlock that's been drilled into place. Maybe he can break the frame if he has to. He can't just sit here waiting, he has to do something to stop this. From inside the bedroom Blaine can hear the sound of moving furniture. Tom is moving the dresser in front of the door, Blaine realizes. Just in case Blaine's not as bad off as he's saying.  
  
This is going to happen no matter what and there's nothing Blaine can do about it.  
  
***  
  
At first Blaine tries to force the door and dresser back by throwing his weight against them, but he very quickly learns that all that will do is make him even weaker and injure his body even more. He tries to distract himself by thinking about Kurt, or trying to remember his parents, or even trying to come up with a plan to trick Tom into letting him go, but it's all useless.  
  
Hour after hour all he can think about is the little boy, whoever he is, and if Tom has caught him, or if Tom has touched him yet, or if Tom is going to come back to the house at all – if he's going to take the little boy and make a run for it because he knows that Blaine is going to betray him. For a while he tries to rummage through the cupboards to see if he can find a key, but he can't really lift up his arms past a certain point before the pain in his sides make him stop, and it doesn't look like there's anything in the bathroom except for shower supplies and toothpaste anyhow, like Tom keeps it cleared of anything useful intentionally. Finally Blaine gives up and slowly lowers himself to the cold tiles, where he leans against the door and drifts in and out of consciousness, waiting.   
  
He dreams about Tom offering to help him win Horton out of the claw machine and he wonders how he'd forgotten about it before. In his dreams his real father is watching, waving his arms and shouting something at Blaine, but Blaine ignores him, because his dad isn't as much fun as Tom is right now, and Tom leans over and tells him not to worry about anything, that everything will work out in the end. The dream shifts and Tom is holding him down as he presses up into him, no canvas of colours masking what happens this time as young Blaine cries and cries. He feels so cold.  
  
He wakes up to the sound of a door slamming shut. Blaine is curled up against the door into the bedroom, so stiff he can barely move. There are no windows in this room, but he thinks it must be late at night. The food is sitting on the counter, still untouched.  
  
Blaine hears the door to the house open and close again, and the sounds of struggling as small footsteps break away and come tearing down the hall, accompanied by terrified crying. He hears Tom swear and chase after the little boy before apparently grabbing him and hauling him into the bedroom.  
  
"Dad?" Blaine calls out carefully, knocking on the door loudly enough to be heard over the struggling, hoping to distract Tom at least a little. "Dad, please let me out. Please?"  
  
"Shut up, Blaine," Tom snarls, obviously still struggling to keep the boy contained. "I swear to god I will hurt you more than you already are if you don't shut up."  
  
The little boy wails, louder than before and there's pain mixed in with the terror now. Blaine is quiet. He doesn't want the kid to be hurt because Tom is taking things out on the wrong person.  
  
"I want to go home," says a young voice, almost moaning the words. "I want to go home."  
  
"Shut up," Tom says. "This is home now, do you understand? Your family doesn't want you anymore, they asked me to take you and you will listen to me or suffer the consequences. Okay?  _Okay_?"  
  
Blaine wants to put his fingers in his ears and block everything out, but he can't stop listening. He's heard all the words Tom is saying. Hearing them told to someone else, years later he can't believe how false they sound. This new boy seems smarter than he was though, because he doesn't sound like he's buying any of it. Not yet, at least.  
  
"My parents want me," he shouts. "They love me and I  _hate you_. When my brother finds you he's gonna  _murder_  you."  
  
"Your brother," Tom says. "Is the one who gave you to me. He told you it was okay to go to the park, didn't he? Why do you think he sent you there? He knew I would be waiting. You're no good to any of them anymore, kiddo. You're not worth keeping and you are lucky I'm here and I'm good enough to take you on."  
  
"They love me," the boy says, still defiant but sounding more and more shaken, like he's not so sure anymore.  
  
 _He's lying_ , Blaine thinks, hard as he can.  _He's lying, he's lying, he's lying._  Like if he tries hard enough he'll be able to make the little boy hear it.  
  
"They don't love you," Tom says, and he's speaking quieter now, so Blaine can tell the kid isn't fighting as hard. "They can't afford to love you. Three kids is a lot when you can't afford a house anymore. One of you had to go, and you're the one that they chose. I'm sorry."  
  
"Why me?" the voice is so quiet Blaine almost doesn't hear it.  
  
"I don't know," Tom says, and Blaine can picture him sitting down next to the boy on the bed, looking thoughtful and troubled, running his hands all over the small body as he pretends to be comforting. In his mind's eye, the little boy looks just like he did. "Have you done anything lately that's going to cost a lot of money? Any trips to the dentist in the last couple months? If your dad doesn't have money anymore they have to pay hundreds and hundreds of dollars for those sorts of things, you know."  
  
"They told me I need braces in a couple years," the voice is dismayed now. Blaine wonders if he handed Tom this much to work with when he first spoke to him, too. It's like hearing a mark unknowingly give a psychic enough of the story in bits and pieces to be tricked when they hear the same information parroted back to them. "But that's a long time from now, I don't need anything yet!"  
  
"They probably didn't want to take the chance," Tom says. "Finding new ways to make money after you've lost a job is hard to do. That's why you guys lost your home. Even if they get work again, giving you braces in a couple years could keep them from leaving that motel. You don't want that for them, do you?"  
  
"No," says the boy, and Blaine can hear he's crying differently now. He recognizes the sound. It's not fear of the person next to you, it's a fear you only get when you realize how lost you are.  
  
"Good boy," Tom is murmuring, making Blaine's stomach clench. "You need to be brave for them now, okay? This is what they wanted for you, it made them so happy to know I would take you. You're going to be a good boy and do what they wanted you to do, right?"  
  
Blaine refuses to stick his fingers in his ears. If the little boy doesn't get to hide, he won't hide either. He doesn't stop listening once, but he doesn't stop crying, either.

***

It feels like days have passed since Tom came home, but it's probably only been an hour or so when Blaine hears the sounds of the dresser moving in front of the bathroom door. He hastily wipes the tears off his face and pulls himself to his feet, waiting for the door to finally swing open. He can't look Tom in the eye, but he hears nauseating satisfaction in his voice when he says,  
  
"It's been a long day and I'm beat. Look after him, will you?"  
  
Blaine nods and inches out into the bedroom. There's a small blond boy huddled up in a ball on the bed, shaking violently in his undershirt and underwear.  
  
"This is your new brother," Tom tells the boy sternly. "You do what he tells you to."  
  
He leaves them alone and locks the door behind him. Blaine stares at the boy in silence. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do next. Finally he says,  
  
"Has he fed you today? Are you hungry?"  
  
The boy doesn't answer, but Blaine goes back into the bathroom and gets the untouched McDonald's bag anyhow. He sets it next to the boy and gingerly crouches down next to the bed. He wants to look the boy in the eyes but he's not looking directly at anything, just staring off into nothing, shaking.   
  
"Hey," he says quietly, reaching out to softly rub the boy's arm with his good hand. The small body flinches violently. "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Did he – did he touch you anywhere, or put his hands or fingers anywhere he shouldn't have?"  
  
The boy still doesn't answer but his face gets red and tears start falling down his face again, so Blaine guesses that's all the answer he needs.  
  
"Does it still hurt a lot or are you just scared?" Blaine asks. "I want to make sure you're okay."  
  
The boy still doesn't answer, and Blaine is worried, but he doesn't blame him. It would be weirder if he was acting normally after what's just happened.  
  
"What's your name?" he tries again. He wants to know about this kid; he wants to help him.  
  
The boy still says nothing, so Blaine says,  
  
"My name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he pauses for a minute, because he doesn't remember the last time his said his real name out loud. It sounds strange. "I know you don't belong here. I don't belong here, either."  
  
"You're not my brother," the boy finally says, still shaking hard, still obviously terrified, but determined nonetheless.  
  
"Nope," Blaine says. "I'm not your real brother. Tom's not your dad. He's not mine either, but he gets mad at me if I don't pretend. You probably should pretend when he's here so he doesn't get mad and hurt you, okay?"  
  
The boy finally looks at him.  
  
"Did he make your face look like that?" he asks.  
  
Blaine reaches up to touch his face, he supposes he's seen it the last couple days in the bathroom mirror but he's never really thought about it. It's still very tender, so it probably looks awful.  
  
"Yeah, he did it," Blaine says. "I told him I didn't want him to take you away from your family."  
  
He lowers his voice even further.  
  
"He was lying about your family. It doesn't matter how poor they are, they still want you. They would never give you away to Tom. He's a very bad man, and they love you too much to do that. I promise."  
  
"Did he take you, too?" the boy asks.  
  
Blaine blinks back tears before admitting,   
  
"I don't know. He always told me they didn't want me anymore, and I believed him. But maybe if he lied to you, he lied to me, too."  
  
"He probably lied," the boy says. "He looks like a liar."  
  
He still hasn't moved, but he's less tense than he was a few minutes ago, which Blaine guesses is something.  
  
"Can I take you to the bathroom and make sure you're okay?" he asks again.  
  
"Stevie Evans," the little boy says, abruptly. It takes Blaine a minute before he realizes the boy is telling him his name.  
  
"Hi Stevie," he says, smiling a little. "How old are you?"  
  
"Eight and a quarter," Stevie says, wincing a little as he starts to sit up, which makes Blaine feel sick to his stomach all over again.  
  
Stevie still won't let Blaine anywhere near his lower body to check for any damage, and Blaine doesn't push it, not sure he'd be able to handle finding out anyway. He keeps trying to tell himself that touching is different when he's helping, when he doesn't mean anything by it, but he's still terrified of making things worse.  
  
He focuses on helping Stevie wipe all the dirt and tears off his face, and checking him for bruises or sore spots that look like they might be caused by a broken bone. His little hands are hot like fire and his nails are bleeding.  
  
"What happened?" he asks, as he gently runs water over them, apologising when it stings as he cleans out the dirt and caked on blood.  
  
"He put me in a trunk," Stevie says. "Because I wouldn't go into the back seat. Sammy says that if the bad guys ever put you in a trunk you can always pull it open from the inside. He told me one time when we were watching TV, but I couldn't find a handle."  
  
"Sammy sounds smart," Blaine says as he carefully dries off Stevie's hands.  
  
"He is," Stevie says as they walk back into the bedroom. "Sammy's the smartest and coolest person in the world. He told me once."  
  
"Who is he?" Blaine asks.  
  
"My big brother," Stevie says, awkwardly climbing back onto the bed as he tries to keep his weight on his elbows. "He's taller than you are."  
  
"Lots of people are," Blaine concedes. He offers Stevie some of the food from the bag, which is cold and has been out for way longer than can be healthy, but Blaine remembers seeing that picture of the 3 year old Big Mac meal and figures that however long this stuff has been sitting it's probably going to do the exact same amount of damage as it would brand new. Stevie starts to pick at some fries, but his hands are awkward and clumsy – Blaine can tell it's hurting him to use them so much. He starts to pull food out of the bag himself and hand it to him piece by piece.  
  
"Hang on a minute," he says, setting the bag aside and walking to the door leading to the hall.  
  
"What are you doing?" Stevie asks, his semi-relaxed state evaporating as Blaine knocks loudly.  
  
"It's okay," Blaine says. "He won't do anything to you, but I want him to get something for your hands. They look really sore."  
  
"No, they don't hurt," Stevie says quickly. He's shaking again, obviously lying, and staring at the door in fear.  
  
"It's okay," Blaine repeats, knocking again before gesturing to the bathroom. "Go hide around the corner in there if you don't want to see him. He won't do anything else tonight, but you don't have to look at him again tonight if you're scared, either."  
  
Blaine knows that Tom is going to drag this out a little. He remembers it took a while before Tom actually slept with him, that those first few months he never slept with him at all without approaching it like some sort of sacred ritual with plenty of lead in time dragged out over days. Tom is interested in turning this into a sick sort of spiritual experience, probably to hide from the fact that his partner is a terrified child who's being tortured instead of pleasured in any sort of way.  
  
Stevie springs into action when Blaine starts calling, "Dad? You still up?" and scampers into the bathroom with wide eyes.  
  
It's another couple minutes before Tom unlocks the door and answers. He's in his boxers but Blaine is pretty sure he wasn't sleeping yet. He doesn't look upset at being bothered, just curious.   
  
"What's going on?" he asks.  
  
"He tore up his hands," Blaine says levelly, trying very hard not to sound like he wants to kick Tom as hard as he can. "I think they're hurting him. Do you have stuff like Children's Tylenol in the house?"  
  
Tom makes a face.  
  
"I don't know," he says. "Why do you need to give him anything? Can't he just sleep it off?"  
  
"Do  _you_  sleep it off?" Blaine asks, he reaches out and touches Tom, trying hard not to come across as angry. "I just think it might be a good idea."  
  
Tom is looking at him a little strangely, like he's thinking about something in a way that's never occurred to him before.  
  
"I'll see what I can find," he says finally.  
  
Blaine stands by the locked door and waits for him to come back. He doesn't bother trying to coax Stevie back into the bedroom yet. He stands there for a long time, but finally the door opens again and Tom is standing there with a couple plastic cups and a mildly sheepish expression on his face.  
  
"We don't have any Children's Tylenol, but I figured half of a regular one couldn't hurt him. It's all I ever gave you and you're still fine, right?"  
  
"Maybe you can pick some up tomorrow," Blaine says taking the cups and cradling them with his bad arm before holding out his hand for the Tylenol. Tom gives him two and a half and Blaine looks at him questioningly. Tom shrugs.  
  
"I thought you might be a little sore, if he was." He says.  
  
Blaine is surprised. The only time in his life Tom's ever given him pain medication was after he let someone else sleep with him, like if it was an injury Tom afflicted on him it would magically hurt less. Who knows, maybe he really thought it worked that way, because he was just that special or good with small kids or whatever.  
  
Blaine smiles tightly at him and mutters a thank you, but Tom grabs him before he can move away and looks at him expectantly.  _God_ , Blaine thinks to himself as his tries to keep his face from showing his disgust.  _He wants me to be his goddamn wife now_. He still leans in and kisses him though, thanking him yet again before Tom locks them back into the room and this is all so fucked up.  
  
He stands where he is for a minute and tries to catch his breath and just avoid a complete nervous breakdown in general before he heads back into the bathroom. Stevie is hiding in the tub behind the shower curtain.  
  
"You can come out now," Blaine says as he fills the cups up with water. "He left."  
  
"Why did you let him kiss you like that?" Stevie whispers, pulling back the curtain but making no move to leave his hiding place.  
  
Blaine tosses the two Tylenol into his mouth and swallows them, although he doubts they'll do much good.  
  
"Because as long as I'm here I don't have a choice," Blaine says holding up the half pill. "If I give this to you can you swallow it? It's to make your hands feel better."  
  
"Sammy taught me a trick for taking pills one time when I had an ear infection," Stevie says confidently so Blaine passes him the pill and some water.  
  
"Does Sammy go to McKinley High?" Blaine asks, suddenly. Something about Stevie is looking a little familiar, now that he thinks about it. "Does he sing in a choir?"  
  
Stevie makes a funny face.  
  
"You're not allowed to call it a choir unless it's for a church," he says. "He sings in the glee club, though. Do you go to McKinley, too?"  
  
"I used to," Blaine says, pulling back the covers on the bed for Stevie, who climbs in without question. "I don't go there now. I think I've met your brother."  
  
Stevie's eyes have lit up.  
  
"Are you his friend?" He asks. "Can you call him now? I don't want to stay here anymore."  
  
"I'm a friend of one of his friends," Blaine says, and he sort of feels like shit, but he adds. "I don't have a phone, and I'm pretty sure Tom won't let us have one. I can't call anyone."  
  
Stevie's smile dims almost instantly. He rolls over onto his side away from Blaine and doesn't say anything else. Blaine sleeps on the floor in the bathroom, far away from the sound of Stevie crying.  
  
***  
  
When Blaine wakes up late the next morning, he can already hear Tom in the bedroom. He peers cautiously into the room and tries hard to pretend he hasn't once he sees Stevie's underwear around his ankles and Tom's hand in his lap. He has to figure out a way to get them out before things go too far. Still, he's too much of a coward to interrupt anything, in case Tom decides now is when he wants Blaine to start helping out, so he stays where he is on the floor, pretending to sleep.  
  
He's on his feet as soon as the door closes, shaking the disturbingly absent Stevie until he snaps out of it and helping him pull underwear back on.  
  
"Why do you always come out after?" Stevie asks, accusingly. "Why don't you make him stop?"  
  
 _Because I'm a terrible person._  Blaine thinks. Out loud he just says,  
  
"I can't stop him, I've never been able to stop him. I don't want him to see me around you because I think he wants me to hurt you, too. I don't want to."  
  
"So just don't do it," Stevie says, clearly unimpressed by Blaine's problems. "You're almost as much of a grown up as him. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. He's not even your real dad."  
  
"Things like that don't matter with him," Blaine says. "I don't want him to hurt you, so I want to do what he says, but I don't want to be the one hurting you, either. That's what he wants. It's confusing."  
  
"It's  _stupid_ ," Stevie says, and Blaine can't argue with that.  
  
They pass much of the time those first couple days together just talking while Tom is out looking for work or getting drunk or doing whatever it is he does during the days. It helps to keep Stevie distracted from where he is and what's happening. Even though it's beyond weird to over-share with a person who hasn't even lived long enough to hit the double digits, Blaine is surprised at how good it feels to be able to talk to someone about his life without lying about it. Even with Kurt all he was really doing was telling one lie after another.  
  
"Are your parents nice?" Stevie asks.   
  
"I can't really remember," Blaine says. "I haven't seen them for the entire time you've been alive. You forget things when it's been that long."  
  
"But they're your parents," Stevie says, looking at Blaine like he's not very smart at all. He's become a little bit obsessed with finding out as much about Blaine's old life as he can. Blaine suspects that Stevie thinks he's holding out on him instead of just unable to remember much to tell him, because Stevie will ask the same question literally dozens of different ways, trying to trick Blaine into giving him an answer. What's scary is that sometimes it works.  
  
"What's the nicest thing you can remember about your parents?" Stevie asks.  
  
"What do you mean?" Blaine says.  
  
"What's the best thing they ever did for you?"  
  
Blaine reaches over to his backpack and gingerly pulls out Horton with his sore hand. He's reached the conclusion that his wrist can't be broken, for no other reason than he wants to be able to use it again as quickly as possible. He's already going to have a hard enough time getting Stevie out of Morgantown with his ribs in the shape they're in, he doesn't need his hand adding to it, so he needs to get used to using it again right away.  
  
"My dad bought me this once," he said. "Or, I think he did. I always thought that was how it worked, but I just remembered the other day that I got it with Tom. But I remember asking my dad for it so...I don't know, maybe my dad told Tom to get it for me?"  
  
"That doesn't count then," Stevie says, with all the confidence that comes with being eight. "You have to  _remember_  it happening or it's like the person didn't even do it for you at all. What do you  _remember_  your dad doing for you?"  
  
"He used to take me camping," Blaine says, without even thinking first. Suddenly it feels like he's been punched and for once he's having trouble breathing and his ribs aren't the problem. He'd forgotten all about their camping trips until that exact second, but it's like just being able to talk about his real dad out loud is bringing back things he thought he'd lost. "Uh, he – he was teaching me the constellations, you know, the pictures the stars make in the sky? He told me I learned them faster than he did."  
  
"Maybe you can go camping with him again when you go back," Stevie suggests. "He can show you the ones he ran out of time to teach you before."  
  
Blaine shakes his head.  
  
"I don't think so," he says. "I don't think my parents will be happy to see me like your parents will be happy to see you."  
  
"Why?" Stevie demands, sceptical as ever.  
  
"If they saw me on the street they wouldn't recognize me now," Blaine says, trying to explain it. "I know I wouldn't recognize them. They probably want the kid that they lost and I'm really not him anymore. I haven't been for a long time."  
  
"Then they're stupid," Stevie says, bluntly. "You can come and live with me and my family. I can get a job so we can afford you, probably. And you'll like Sammy. You're a lot like him."  
  
"How am I like him?" Blaine asks, smiling a little.  
  
"You both have really floppy hair," Stevie says, like it's obvious. "Kurt was trying to get Sammy to cut his, but he said no."  
  
"You know Kurt?" Blaine asks as his chest gets even tighter.  
  
"He's one of Sammy's friends," Stevie says, as he picks up Horton and walks him across the floor. "He brought over clothes for us once after we moved into the motel."  
  
"Oh," Blaine says. "He's one of my friends, too."  
  
"He's nice," Stevie says. "He talks funny, though. Me and Stacy couldn't understand him a lot of the time. He uses big words."  
  
Blaine can't argue this fact, and as Stevie marches Horton back and forth in front of the curtains on the padlocked windows, he wonders what Kurt's doing right now.  
  
***  
  
After Blaine faces the music and helps Stevie clean up the first time, he figures that there's really no more excuse for him to put off the rest of his plan any longer. Stevie is obviously at a point now where he trusts Blaine in spite of what's happening to him almost daily, which is helpful because washing his hair is something of a team effort with Stevie's hands still too raw to handle scrubbing and Blaine's one hand unable to apply any sort of pressure.  
  
He talks to Stevie about what he wants to do while they rinse the suds out of his hair.  
  
"It's very important that you don't say anything to Tom, no matter what okay?" he says. "If Tom knows anything about what we're doing it won't work and I won't be able to get you out of here."  
  
Stevie nods wide-eyed and the next morning he is studiously playing with Horton the from the time Blaine calls Tom until the time they stop talking. Blaine thinks he's being painfully obvious and that the innocent act is horribly put-on, but Tom doesn't even give him a second glance. Maybe it's because Tom only ever talks to Stevie when he's scaring him or telling him lies. He really doesn't know anything about him.  
  
"Can we leave the bedroom today?" Blaine asks, cutting straight to the chase.  
  
"No way," Tom says without hesitating. "I've got better things to do than babysit you two all day."  
  
"Who said anything about babysitting?" Blaine says. "Dad, we're not going to do anything. It's just, it's really boring being stuck in here all day with nothing to do. I can't keep him entertained all the time, and I thought I could clean up the rest of the house for you or something."  
  
"I don't want him wandering through the house by himself," Tom says, wavering a little already. If he thinks Blaine's behaving himself, he's always been pretty good about letting him have his own way. He probably thinks it's what a good dad does.  
  
"He wouldn't be by himself," Blaine says. "My ribs are still pretty bad. I'm having trouble bending over and picking things up. He told me he would help out."  
  
"You think he'll be much good?" Tom asks, like he's trying to change Blaine's mind.  
  
"He helped me straighten things up in here," Blaine says, indicating the bedroom, which they've carefully dusted and tidied. "I mean, we don't have any cleaning supplies to do the walls or floors or anything, but it's better, right?"  
  
"You must be really bored," Tom is smirking a little, because Blaine has never been one for cleanliness.  
  
"I think I'm going crazy," Blaine says truthfully.  
  
"What are you willing to do to get out?" Tom asks, more than a little suggestively. Blaine tenses.  
  
"My ribs," he starts, but Tom interrupts him.  
  
"I'd go easy on you," he says as he gently runs his hands down Blaine's aching sides. "The kid's got to find out what he's in for sooner or later."  
  
"You want him to watch?" Blaine says, quietly. His blood is pounding loudly in his ears. He doesn't know if he's humiliated or terrified.  
  
"You want out of the bedroom for a few hours, right?" Tom says, as he reaches to undo his pants, before gently pushing on Blaine's shoulders, encouraging him to go down to his knees. Stevie has given up all pretence at playing now and is just watching in trepidation, like he knows he should be scared by what's happening but he doesn't know why yet. "How bad do you want it, Blaine?"  
  
Blaine takes a deep breath, or tries to until the catch in his ribs stops him.  
  
"It won't be very good," he warns, feeling the blood rush to his face. "I can't breathe very well."  
  
"I know," Tom says, in a voice that's so understanding Blaine wants to scream. "Just do your best."  
  
Blaine does, and tries not to think about what will happen if this ends up being for nothing.  
  
***   
  
Tom leaves them with the bedroom door unlocked that day and with strict instructions to stay away from all the windows.  
  
"Those things look like shit and I'll be able to tell if somebody's been touching them," he says. "The trees and bushes are all overgrown so no one will see you even if you do something stupid, but there's no point in taking chances. Just clean around them, do you get it?"  
  
Blaine nods. He's still hunched over on the floor where he got Tom off, but his sides feel like they're burning and every little breath and movement makes it worse. He just needs a few minutes before he goes back to pretending he's strong and can handle all this and that he really doesn't mind what's happening to him that much at all.  
  
Stevie cautiously makes his way over to him after they hear Tom's car turn on and pull out of the driveway.  
  
"Blaine," he asks in a little voice. "Are you okay?"  
  
Blaine nods in a probably really unconvincing way, because Stevie says,  
  
"That looked like it was a really mean thing to do. Why was he talking like he thought you liked it? You didn't, did you?"  
  
Blaine shakes his head before saying,  
  
"It's confusing. A lot of people think those sorts of things are fun to do with other people, but it's not good to do if you're hurt. Tom doesn't think about those kinds of things."  
  
"It didn't look like you were having fun," Stevie says. "It was gross. You were crying."  
  
"My eyes were watering," Blaine says flatly. "That's not the same."  
  
"I don't want him to do that to me," Stevie says, and his voice is getting panicky. Blaine is starting to come to the conclusion that this is the shittier way to get raped – finding out what all these things are, knowing that you're going to be forced to participate in them soon.  
  
"I don't want that either," Blaine says, finally catching enough breath to convince his body to ease back up into a standing position. "That's why we had to get out of the bedroom. Don't worry. We'll find a way out. Let's get to work, okay?"  
  
He takes Stevie's hand and they walk out into the hallway. Blaine is quiet for a moment as he tries to remember as much about the house as he can. It was the second or third place they lived in, he remembers that. He also remembers that at some point towards the end of their stay here he stopped trying to run away and started going along with everything Tom said. It was around then that the windows started getting unlocked.  
  
There had been a fire a few towns over and someone's dog had died, barking at a window while the firemen helplessly listened because the security bars kept them from reaching it. Blaine remembers Tom, drunk, crying, and scared shitless, telling Blaine where to find the keys for the windows in case he ever needed to get out. At the time he didn't think much about it, but he's thought about that moment a lot over the years, because when he grew older it occurred to him that in Tom's eyes he was little more than a favourite pet. Blaine would always be less than human to Tom because Tom only saw him as a possession, no matter how much he liked him.  
  
Over the years Blaine has forgotten where the keys ultimately were kept, but he remembers what the barred windows looked like: ornate to the point of tacky on stiff, unforgiving hinges. This was definitely the right house, and Blaine is certain Tom didn't remember ever telling Blaine about the hiding places for the keys at all.  
  
He starts cleaning in the most obvious places he can think of at first – by the doorways and in Tom's bedroom. He dusts and keeps an eye out for small boxes or books that don't quite lie flat or have loose spines. He sweeps the floors and feels for any loose floorboards, and he even washes the walls as best as he can, hoping to find something hanging behind a picture, but by the time the afternoon rolls around he's aching and hunched over, his breath coming out in gasps, and they're still no closer to finding a key.  
  
"Maybe he took it with him when he left?" Stevie suggests. He's been sticking to Blaine like a lost puppy, never more than two feet away at any given time, carrying things and lifting anything he decides look too heavy for Blaine but light enough for him, which admittedly isn't an awful lot. Blaine can't decide if he's more scared for Blaine or for himself after what happened that morning. It's a little off-putting to be mothered by a kid, but mostly just sort of cute.  
  
"I doubt he even remembers the locks have keys," Blaine says.  
  
"No," says Stevie. "I mean maybe he took them the first time you left."  
  
"Maybe," Blaine says, but he really hopes not. He's pretty sure finding those keys are the only way they'll get out. Tom isn't lying about the bushes and trees being overgrown. There's no way anyone will ever see them if they try to signal for help. There isn't even a working phone in the house anymore, if there ever was one. All of Tom's phone calls have been done with his cell phone, which never leaves his side.  
  
Blaine collapses onto a sofa. He's so tired, and he just needs to close his eyes for a few minutes. They can try looking some more a little later.  
  
***  
  
Stevie wakes him up hours later. He looks scared and it takes Blaine a minute to figure out what's wrong, but then he hears the car door slam shut.  
  
"Can we go back to the bedroom?" Stevie asks. "Please?"  
  
"Okay," Blaine says, rising to his feet. They've only gotten settled back in the already far too familiar bedroom when they hear the front door open. Tom walks in about fifteen minutes later.  
  
"Not bad," Tom says. "You guys didn't get too much done though."  
  
"Sorry," Blaine mumbles. "I kept getting tired and we only had dishcloths and a broom from the kitchen. I think we're out of cleaning supplies."  
  
"No we're not," Tom says. "You guys just didn't know where to look. That's what you get for leaving the grossest places until last."  
  
At Blaine's quizzical look he clarifies, "They're in the other bathroom. Under the sink."  
  
"Oh," says Blaine, still fighting to keep his eyes open. "Tomorrow then."  
  
"You look like you've pushed yourself too hard," Tom says, in a sympathetic voice that immediately puts Blaine on edge. "Why don't you take the night off?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Blaine asks.  
  
"I'll look after your brother for the night and you can take a break. You've worked hard today."  
  
"You don't have to do that," Blaine says as he feels Stevie inch closer to him, but Tom reaches out and physically drags Stevie off the bed, smile never faltering.  
  
"Don't be stupid," he says. "We've got a lot of important things to talk about, don't we buddy?"  
  
"Dad," Blaine says, starting to get back to his feet. "I'm really not that tired. Do you want to do something tonight? I can do it, you don't need Stevie."  
  
"We'll have to do something about that name for a start," Tom says brightly, like he hasn't even heard Blaine. His smile grows cold when Blaine still continues getting off the bed though. His grip on Stevie's arms tighten until Stevie lets out a terrified whimper. Blaine freezes.  
  
"Go lie down, Blaine," Tom says. "We don't need you tonight."  
  
He turns off the light when they leave and the door locks behind them. Blaine lies there in the early darkness of the evening, imagining all the different things that could be happening and wondering what on earth is taking so long. It seems like a very long time before the door opens again.  
  
For a while he just hears the sounds of Stevie crying, probably huddled against the door, making no moves to come any further into the room. Part of him wants to ask what happened and make sure he's alright. The rest of him doesn't want to hear the answer. He ends up saying nothing and waiting for Stevie to make the first move.  
  
Finally Stevie sniffles loudly and says, "He told me he's changing my name."  
  
"What's he calling you?" Blaine asks, because that's probably the safest question he can ask right now.  
  
"Robert," Stevie says in a disgusted voice.  
  
"That's not too bad," Blaine says. "He made me be Francis."  
  
"He said you were extra good and earned your name back because you always did what he wanted," Stevie says, a little accusingly but equally inquisitive.  
  
"I think that's another lie," Blaine says. "I don't think I earned my real name back as much as I outgrew his. Your name is never going to change, Stevie. You have to get used to him calling you something else, but you're always going to know your real name, even if you're not allowed to say it anymore. That's what matters."  
  
Stevie is quiet after that. He doesn't tell Blaine what Tom did to him and Blaine still doesn't ask. He feels like he should get out of the bed and go back into the bathroom like he's been doing every night, but he's so tired and sore that he can't make himself move. Then his eyes are closing of their own accord and he starts drifting off. The bed dips down next to him and he feels Stevie, still sniffling a little, snuggle into his side. It hurts, but he doesn't say anything.  
  
***  
  
In the end, Stevie is the one who figures it out. Tom lets them out again the next day when he goes off to what he says is work, but really Blaine has no idea if that's true or not. He doesn't seem to be keeping any sort of regular hours, and can show up at the house again after being gone only a couple hours. Blaine doesn't think he'd be doing anything  _too_ shady, since that seems like an awful lot of needless risk, but Blaine figures he must be doing something probably at least a little illegal to get money. He remembers that he was around a lot the first year he was taken, too.  
  
Blaine takes Stevie into the other bathroom to look for cleaning supplies, and also to check for the keys. Something about the bathroom strikes him as familiar the second he walks into it, so he spends a lot of time digging through drawers and cupboards, trying to find  _something_.  
  
"My mom and dad always keep keys up there," Stevie says, pointing on top of the mirror where it's flat. They don't know that we know where they hide them, but every house it's where they hide special keys, for the places we're not supposed to go."  
  
Blaine laughs a little at that, but he doesn't really think Tom would leave something so important in a place so obvious it's the first place a kid his target age would think to check. He decides to look anyhow, because at this point it couldn't hurt. The stitch in his side has gotten worse with all the work and he can't lift his arms even halfway to his shoulders, but Stevie climbs onto the toilet seat and reaches up to feel along the ledge. Something clatters down onto the sink.

***

Blaine pockets the key right away, but they don't have a chance to do anything with it until later that night. Tom comes home early and in a mood, and all Blaine is worried about is keeping Stevie out of his way. Whatever's happened to upset Tom, it hasn't left him in the mood to take it out on them, though, or do anything with them at all. He just looks at them with a put upon expression before marching them back into the bedroom and locking them inside.  
  
Blaine can hear him getting up and stumbling to the fridge to get more beer multiple times over the next several hours. He wonders how he's supposed to know if Tom's sober enough to recognise the sounds of an escape when he hears one, because Blaine knows that if he has to spend one more night in this house waiting for something to happen, he is going to lose his mind. They have to go tonight.  
  
In the end he waits until nightfall before he does anything. When he hasn't heard anything from the rest of the house for at least two hours and even though he knows this could go very, very wrong, and it would be wiser just to wait until Tom's out of the house, he shakes Stevie awake and tells him to get dressed.  
  
The window is dusty and dirty, but the bars spring open relatively easily. They make a horrible groaning noise when they do and Blaine's heart stops while he waits to hear if Tom has woken up. When nothing happens for a few minutes, he turns his attention on the window. It's stiff and old and it's obvious it hasn't been opened for years. The tracks are rusted and it refuses to budge an inch. Blaine takes it with both hands and hauls on it as hard as he can, almost hanging off it he's pulling so hard. It finally moves after almost five minutes of struggling, by about three inches.  
  
Blaine almost cries because he doesn't think he can keep this up but then he sees an old brass candlestick on the dresser and manages to wedge in enough to lever the window open wide enough to pop out the screen and squeeze through. He pulls himself out first and Stevie scrambles after him after he's made sure he's not going to land in a pile of broken glass or anything like that.  
  
Blaine's hand, which had been starting to feel like it might be getting better, hurts so badly it crowds all the other thoughts out of his brain, and his ribs aren't doing that much better. The last thing he wants to do is get up and move, but then there's a noise from inside the house. Blaine isn't sure what it is. It could be a pile of dishes falling over in the sink for all he knows but it could also be Tom waking up and wondering what all the racket outside is. He grabs Stevie's hand and stumbles towards the street as quickly as he can.  
  
This is the part Blaine hasn't thought through very well. He's been so concerned with getting out of the house and away from Tom that he's never thought about what he should do after he's made it this far. He briefly considers going to the first house that they see, but his courage fails him as soon as one comes into view.  
  
He has no idea who these people are, and he's not sure if they know Tom, or if Tom has made up a lie to cover his ass if they get away, like he does with all the schools Blaine goes to. If Blaine is a problem kid and a liar to these people, there's no stopping them from just calling Tom and having him take them back to the house, and there's no way they'd get out again after that.  
  
They keep walking, and Blaine hopes like hell they're going in the right direction. He needs to be able to call someone he can trust, he realizes, and he doesn't know anyone here. He could find a phone and call the police, and he probably will if that's what it comes to. There's no way there aren't hundreds of people on the lookout for Stevie by now, so at least they'll be able to get him back home to Ohio. He just doesn't know what will happen to him if they take him in, too.  
  
Blaine wants to know what happened to his parents, but he thinks he wants to do it on his own terms. He wants the chance to run away if it looks like seeing them again will be too hard, or if he's going to be a disappointment to them or if maybe Tom was telling the truth all along and they just decided they didn't want him anymore.  
  
Blaine thinks he can handle any of those things happening, but he doesn't want to have to handle that kind of rejection with anyone else watching. What he needs is someone who can come and get them and take them back to Ohio, or at least take Stevie to the authorities without getting him involved, and he needs a place where they can stay hidden until that happens. Blaine needs to get Kurt's phone number again.  
  
***  
  
Eventually the streets they're walking down start to get a little busier. Blaine can't decide if this is because they're closer to the centre of town or closer to the highway, but they seem to be getting  _somewhere_  which is better than nothing at this point. Before too long an SUV slows down to a stop beside them and the window rolls down.  
  
"Are you kids lost?" A man asks a little suspiciously, looking at Stevie closely. "It's kind of late for a kid that small to be out by himself."  
  
"He's with me," Blaine says. "We're trying to get downtown. Are we going in the right direction?"  
  
"You are," the man says. "You've got a long way to go though, and to be honest you don't look like you're doing so good, kid. Do you need a ride?"  
  
Blaine hesitates. Getting into that car would be an incredibly stupid thing for him to do right now, but he's tired and he's so sore he's having trouble standing, and Stevie's been dragging his heels for the last forty minutes, so he's obviously having trouble, too.  
  
 _He can't be any worse than what we came from_ , Blaine finally reasons, so he says, "Thank you" and helps Stevie climb into the back before getting into the passenger seat.  
  
"What are you two doing out so late?" the man asks as soon as they're moving again.  
  
Blaine doesn't have a good answer for that, so he just shrugs and looks out the window. After a minute the man tries again.  
  
"It's a little strange to see a couple of kids your age wandering around in the middle of the night. It's dangerous."  
  
"We're okay," Blaine says. He doesn't want to be too rude, but he doesn't know what else to try to get the man to stop asking questions.  
  
"Are you sure?" The man asks. "You look like you're a little banged up. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"  
  
"I just need to make a phone call," Blaine mutters, and then he has an idea. "What kind of a phone do you have?"  
  
"Why?" the man asks, suspiciously.  
  
"I need to get a phone number," Blaine says. "I know who I need to call, but I don't have their number. Does your phone have the internet?"  
  
The man is looking decidedly uncomfortable now.  
  
"I don't know," he says. "I want to help you, I do. But this is really weird. I stopped because I was worried about you guys, but I don't want to get involved in anything. Should I be calling the cops right now?"  
  
Blaine feels a sinking sensation in his stomach, he's getting a little desperate.  
  
"Look," he says. "I'm not lying. You don't need the cops, just give me the phone. I need that number. Once I get it everything will turn out alright. You won't get into trouble, I swear."  
  
The man still doesn't look convinced and Blaine doesn't know what to do to change things around.  
  
"Look," he says. "I'll do anything you want. Seriously anything. If you can't help me or if you're not interested just pull over and we'll find someone who is."  
  
"Interested in  _what_?" the guy asks, a little incredulously.  
  
"Whatever you want," Blaine says, not even really sure what he's saying. He knows the world doesn't work like this beyond Tom, but who knows? It was what the security guard wanted, so maybe it's something that's inside of everyone and they just don't know it until they're given an opportunity. "I'll do whatever you want and I won't tell anyone, I promise. "  
  
He pauses for a minute before adding,  
  
"Just me though, okay? Nothing with the kid. You can do anything so long as you leave him out of it."  
  
The SUV swerves a little as the man turns to gape at him.  
  
"Jesus Christ," he says. "Who the hell do you think I am? I'm not trying to fucking coerce sex out of you.  _God_."  
  
He swears like he's not used to it, the profanities sitting on his tongue a little longer than everything else.  
  
" _Christ_ ," he says again. "What the hell is going on? Did someone put you up to this? Is someone making you do this, is that's what's going on?"  
  
"No," says Blaine. "I'm just trying to get him back home again, that's all."  
  
"You know, I thought you two looked familiar," The man says, pulling over. "I swear to god that kid in the backseat was on the news a couple days ago. I'm calling the police and they can sort out what to do with you."  
  
Blaine has opened the door and is prepared to make a run for it when he feels the man grab onto his shoulder.  
  
"I don't want to get you into any trouble," he says. "But I've got a kid at home close to your age and it looks like you need help right now. Nothing on the news said you were in trouble, I promise. Just that they were looking for help finding you. I'll make you a deal. You let me call the police and let them know that I've got you, and then the second I get off the phone, I will give it to you and you can make your phone call. Whoever it is you have to talk to can meet us at the station, alright?"  
  
Blaine hesitates, not sure if he wants to take the risk, but then he glances into the backseat and Stevie is sitting there watching the whole thing and Blaine realizes how scared the poor kid looks. He could take off, or at least try, but he'd never forgive himself for abandoning Stevie when he looks so terrified.  
  
"Fine," he says sitting back down. "Whatever. Just...get it over with."  
  
The man calls the police and tells whoever is on the other line that he has "those two lost kids from TV" and Blaine wonders why the news would be talking about both of them and not just Stevie, but he doesn't have time to think about it, because the man is looking at him and is saying,  
  
"The older one looks like he's been through a pretty big fight not too long ago. They both look really tired."  
  
He speaks for a few more minutes and when he hangs up he looks at them and says,  
  
"Slight change of plan. They want me to take you to the Children's hospital at WVU. They'll meet us there."  
  
He pulls off the shoulder of the road and starts to drive again as he hands the phone to Blaine.  
  
"You may want to tell whoever it is that you're calling."  
  
Blaine pulls up the white pages and types in Hummel for the Lima, Ohio area. A Hummel, B. comes up in the results page. He has no idea if the number is going to be the right one, if they took their old number with them when they moved, but he really doesn't know what else to do.  
  
The phone rings and rings. Blaine looks at the clock on the dash and realizes that he may not get an answer. It's almost 4 o'clock in the morning, Kurt will probably sleep through a phone call. The phone goes to voicemail. Blaine hangs up and calls again. This time the phone is answered on the first ring.  
  
"Hello?" It sounds like Kurt's dad has picked up. He sounds sleepy but relieved, like he was hoping whoever he missed would call back.  
  
"Hi," Blaine says. "Sorry for calling so late. Is Kurt there? I lost his cell number."  
  
"Kurt's at school," Burt says and God, of course Kurt would be at school. Blaine had completely forgotten about it, like he's forgotten what normal people do during the week. "Is this Blaine?"  
  
"Sorry," Blaine says again. "I'll, uh, I'll call again later maybe?"  
  
"No wait!" Burt says quickly. "Do  _not_  hang up the phone. We've been looking for you for weeks. Where are you? Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm in a car with a guy," Blaine says, then winces a little because that is the least helpful thing he could have said right now. "He says he's taking us to a hospital?"  
  
He looks at the man who clarifies,  
  
"The Children's Hospital on the West Virginia Campus."  
  
"Did you get that?" Blaine asks. "It's in Morgantown. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have called. It's far from you. I just don't know anyone here."  
  
"Stop apologising," Burt says. "I'm getting into my car right now and I'll meet you there in a few hours."  
  
"Would you let Kurt know I'm okay?" Blaine asks, because that's sort of important to him right now.  
  
"Of course," Burt says. "He's been worried sick about you. Have the police been contacted? There have been a lot of people looking for you."  
  
"The guy wouldn't let me call you until he let them know he had us," Blaine said, and that's the second time someone's talked about turning him in to the police now. He's really uneasy about where all of this is going. "Mr. Hummel? Are they going to arrest me?"  
  
"Why would they do that?" Burt asks.  
  
"Steven Evans," Blaine says. "I have him with me. I promise I didn't want to take him, but you're all talking about us being on the news together, and I don't even know why I'm on the news at all unless they think I did it, but I swear I didn't. None of it was my idea and I'm sorry for – "  
  
"Blaine calm down," Burt says firmly and Blaine snaps his mouth shut. "No one's going to arrest you, okay? They want to talk to you, that's all. We reported your disappearance to the cops as soon as you didn't check in with us and the first thing we heard back was that there was no record of Tom Brenner ever even having a son, let alone one named Blaine. Then a week after you two took off the Evans boy went missing. The cops sort of just drew their own conclusions from that, but we told them everything you told us and no one suspected you of anything. We were all just scared you were hurt."  
  
There's a pause and Burt says hesitantly,  
  
" _Are_  you okay? Is Evans okay? You said you were going to the hospital."  
  
Blaine doesn't know what to say to that. He's pretty sure he could be better, but he doesn't really want to admit it to Burt. He settles on,  
  
"Stevie hurt his hands and he's scared pretty bad, but I think everything looks worse than it is. Mr. Hummel? Could you call his parents, too? I don't know how quickly the police will get a hold of them, and I think they probably want to see him right away."  
  
"I'll call them," Burt reassures, then adds. "I don't know really know the best way to ask, but if this guy isn't your dad – Blaine, do you have anyone I should be calling to let them know you're alright? Do you have any way for me to contact your real parents?"  
  
"You don't have to do that," Blaine says, quickly. "Besides, I don't even know their number."  
  
"If you give me their names I can have Carole look it up," Burt suggests. "It wouldn't be a problem."  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Hummel, I should probably go," Blaine says. "This man is letting me use his phone to talk to you, but it's long distance. I don't want him to have to keep paying for us to talk. Just make sure Mr. and Mrs. Evans know, okay?"  
  
Burt promises again and when Blaine hangs up a few minutes later and glances back at Stevie, he looks intensely relieved.  
  
"They're coming for me?" he says, like he needs to hear Blaine say it.  
  
"They're on their way," Blaine says. It's only then that he notices Stevie is carrying something with him from the house. He doesn't know how he missed it before, but suddenly he's being handed Horton, looking even more beat up and worse for wear than he had been six hours ago.  
  
"We needed to save him, too," Stevie says, simply.  
  
"Thanks," says Blaine, staring at the elephant.  
  
***  
  
The police are already there waiting for them when they walk into the emergency room. Blaine sort of wishes he could turn around and walk right back out but Stevie has a death grip on his hand and he obviously has no plans to ease up any time soon. The man who drove them catches the officer's attention and they come over, leading the group to an area somewhat cut off from the rest of the reception, creating a false illusion of privacy. One officer, a woman with long brown hair and surprisingly soft brown eyes in a face full of severe features and no-nonsense angles, takes the lead.  
  
"Hello," she says, speaking directly to Blaine. "My name is Detective Warren. I understand we have some things to discuss with you two gentlemen?"  
  
Blaine gently pushes Stevie forward from where he's been trying to surreptitiously hide behind Blaine in an effort not to be noticed.  
  
"This is Steven Evans. I think his family is looking for him?"  
  
"I see," says Detective Warren. Her voice isn't mean, exactly. There's a note of friendliness in her tone, but like her face, it's hidden away inside an unbreachable wall of professionalism. She talks to Stevie like she's addressing an extremely short adult. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Evans. We've been worried about you. This is my colleague Detective Carter."  
  
The second officer, a smiling woman with a round face and amiable expression, bends down and tries to look Stevie in the eye as she speaks, without much success.  
  
"Hi Steven," she says. "I was wondering if you'd mind if I took you into a quieter room so we can have a doctor make sure you're not hurt, and maybe you can talk to me a little about what's been happening the last week and a half."  
  
Stevie just shakes his head and moves back behind Blaine.  
  
"You can stay with your friend a little while longer if you're uncomfortable, until you get to know Detective Carter a little better," Detective Warren suggests. "We have time."  
  
Blaine notices that there are other officers in the room, men, now talking to the man who drove them in a distance away from them. They seem to be showing no interest in coming any closer. Detective Warren follows his eye line.  
  
"We thought you might be a little more comfortable talking to women," she says, smiling a little tightly. "If you'd rather speak with one of them, we can arrange that, too."  
  
"This is fine," Blaine says, quickly. Talking to an officer about what's been happening since Stevie's been taken is bad enough. The last thing he wants is to start doing something stupid like having a trauma flashback while he talks to a strange policeman about it. Detective Warren is looking at him suspiciously now.  
  
"Your name's Blaine, is that right?" she asks, and Blaine nods warily. "You're the one who found Steven?"  
  
Blaine shrugs.  
  
"I didn't really find him," he says. "He was with me the whole time."  
  
"And where was that?" she asks.  
  
"My dad took him," Blaine says.  
  
"And by your dad you mean Tom Brenner?"  
  
Blaine nods again and offers,  
  
"I  _think_  I remember the street we were staying on if you want to talk to him or arrest him or whatever. I don`t know the house number, but it's an old rundown house with trees all around it. You can barely see it from the sidewalk. He was passed out when we left, so maybe he's still there."  
  
Detective Warren calls her partner over to relay the directions and has Blaine repeat the street number a couple times.  
  
"Have someone send over a couple squad cars," she tells her partner. "I'd like to be able to get this guy off the streets as soon as possible."  
  
Once he's left she turns her attention back to Blaine.  
  
"I'd like you to help me with something, Blaine. You've told me that Brenner is your father, but based on the information that's been found, legally Tom Brenner has no son. I've seen some of the registration records from a few of the schools you've attended and there's no doubt that he's put a lot of effort into forging your birth certificate and any other necessary documents, but I think it's safe to say your last name isn't really Brenner."  
  
Blaine doesn't say anything to that so she prompts,  
  
"What's your  _real_  name?"  
  
"My real name is Blaine," Blaine insists.  
  
"And your last name?"  
  
When he stays silent Detective Warren sighs.  
  
"Look Blaine," She says. "One way or another we are going to sort out who you really are. If we have to we can do that the hard way, but since that will involve wasting time and money as we construct a timeline of your entire life as Francis Brenner until we figure out when the records stop, I'd rather you just tell me. There are no less than 15 missing kids we need to eliminate before we confirm your identity. Please just give us a break?"  
  
Blaine isn't about to kid himself. He knows that if says anything right now it will just be an excuse or a lie. He's not about to buy into the idea of some stupid fairy tale ending where his parents take him home and they all live happily ever after. But before he has a chance to say anything, he shifts a little too quickly to look back at Stevie and his sides start to scream out in protest. Wincing he sinks down into the nearest chair.  
  
Detective Warren's instantly shifts from mild impatience to concern as she calls for a nurse to come over with a wheelchair, which is just so many different kinds of embarrassing Blaine doesn't even want to think about it.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asks, crouching down next to him.  
  
"I think I'm just dizzy," Blaine mumbles.  
  
"He hurt his hand," Stevie pipes up. "And he breathes funny when he has to move around a lot."  
  
Blaine rolls his eyes. Of course now is when Stevie suddenly regains the powers of speech.  
  
"We'll have someone check you out. Run a few tests," says Detective Warren. There's something guarded in her voice that makes Blaine look at her sharply.  
  
"Tests?" he repeats.  
  
She looks a little uncomfortable as she says,  
  
"Just standard procedure in these kinds of cases, Blaine."  
  
"What if I don't want to know what he gave me?" Blaine asks quietly, desperately hoping she's the only one who can hear him. "I'm 16. That's old enough to refuse medical treatment, right?"  
  
She smiles at him a little sadly.  
  
"You can refuse treatment if you can legally prove your age," she says. "Your birth certificate's a forgery, Blaine."  
  
Blaine laughs a little.  
  
"I don't even know when my birthday  _is_ ," he admits, as she steps back to let a nurse help settle him into the chair which is every bit as humiliating as he thought it would be.  
  
Detective Warren looks at him strangely.  
  
"Just how long have you been missing?" she asks.  
  
"I don't even know if I am missing," Blaine says as he's finally taken into an exam room, Stevie trailing along behind.  
  
***  
  
Warren gives Blaine some space while he's being examined but Detective Carter sticks around, striking up a semi-successful rapport with Stevie. Blaine thinks it would work better if Stevie wasn't practically sleeping with his eyes open, but he does seem to finally be calming down a little bit.  
  
Carter is the one who ends up taking the pictures of their injuries for evidence, because when they sent in the police photographer Stevie freaked out and wouldn't let anyone come near him. Secretly Blaine is kind of thankful, because he knows it's important that people take records of what Tom did, but there are so many new people coming and going, and he's just as tired as Stevie is, so the idea of some strange guy coming in while Blaine pulls off his clothes and poses for fucking pictures is enough to make him start throwing tantrums like Stevie if there's a chance it'll get them to back off.  
  
They take pictures of Blaine's wrist and bruised hands, which are looking especially bad again after his fight with the window. He has to take of his shirt and pants so they can document the deep purple and sickly green and yellow bruises decorating his torso. Then they photograph Stevie's hands, which are nothing near as bad as they were a little over a week ago, but are still pretty sore-looking, especially on the fingers where he managed to pull off some or all of his nail. They take pictures of some hand-shaped bruises on his arms too, that Blaine didn't know about. He tries not to think too hard about how they got there.  
  
Eventually Detective Carter manages to lure Stevie off to a room of his own so they can actually start looking after some of Blaine's injuries, which require shipping him off to different units for x-rays of his wrist and rib cage. Before he leaves, Carter has to get Mrs. Evans on a phone to talk to Stevie and promise him that it's okay to trust the people at the hospital, and that she will see him soon. He still cries again when he has to hang up and say goodbye, and he doesn't look any happier about leaving Blaine, but after Blaine promises him he can "see the pictures of Blaine's bones after the doctors look at them," he's mollified enough to do as he's told.  
  
"You're very good with him," the nurse comments once they're alone and she's working on adding some pain medication to the IV they've already gotten set up.  
  
"Yeah," Blaine says. "Think of all the babysitting money I've been missing out on over the years. I could have just saved up enough money to leave before Tom managed to break my wrist."  
  
They're both quiet for a minute before Blaine says,  
  
"Stevie really doesn't like anyone touching him in the places the doctors are going to be checking. It scares him. He shouldn't be alone when they do it."  
  
The nurse smiles sympathetically.  
  
"I'm pretty sure they're just going to make sure his hands are cleaned up properly and infection-free for right now. They're mostly interested in letting him get some sleep before his parents get here, and then they can stay with him for anything else that happens."  
  
Blaine thinks sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea, and once he's been told his ribs are just bruised but the wrist is definitely going to need a cast, he drifts off himself. The pain meds are definitely better than a couple regular strength Tylenol, or else Blaine's just that tired, because he doesn't even wake up properly when they tape up his side and set his arm in a cast.  
  
***  
  
"Blaine?"  
  
It takes Blaine a minute to remember where he is and how he got there when he opens his eyes, but when he sees Detective Warren sitting next to his bed it starts to come back to him.  
  
"Where's Stevie?" He asks. At some point he's been moved to an actual hospital room, but he doesn't remember when. He's the only one in it.  
  
"Next door and out like a light," says Warren. "It's 7:30 in the morning and the Evanses just called to say they're about half an hour away. Hopefully when he wakes up it will be to his family."  
  
Blaine notices she's holding a few files in her hand.  
  
"What are those?" he asks.  
  
She gently sets them next to him on the bed as he tries to sit up. She helps him find the right button and it slowly moves his body into the right position. He wonders if she's actively trying to make him feel pathetic or if that's just how hospitals make you feel when you're in stuck in one.  
  
"I did a little more research while you were asleep," she says. "I tossed out all of the newer missing children reports we were looking at and I had a few of the older ones brought out as well. I'm pretty sure I've got your identity narrowed down to one of three kids with Blaine as a part of their names, but I was hoping you could give me a little more to work with. A last name maybe? I do  _not_  want to call two families and get their hopes raised for nothing."  
  
"There are three missing kids my age named Blaine?" Blaine says. "Really?"  
  
Detective Warren shrugs.  
  
"There must have been a lot of John Hughes fans having babies in the 90s," she deadpans before getting very serious as she leans forward and says,  
  
"What you said earlier about not being missing was bothering me, so I made a few calls. I ended up talking to Burt Hummel, the man you reported your disappearance in Lima, Ohio. He was already on his way here, so I'm guessing you called him?"  
  
Blaine nods.  
  
"He told me that you told his son you thought your parents hated you. I wondered if you meant Brenner, but Mr. Hummel said it was his understanding that you very specifically were talking about your  _parents_. Plural."  
  
She looks at Blaine intently as she sets her index finger on the files.  
  
"The parents of each one of these boys were  _destroyed_  when their sons were taken from them. These kids were loved and there's nothing these parents wouldn't do to get them back."  
  
Blaine looks down and picks at the new cast on his wrist for a moment before blurting out,  
  
"Did Mr. Hummel tell you I was gay?"  
  
Warren's brow wrinkles in confusion.  
  
"He didn't mention," she says, but stays silent and waits for him to explain instead of trying to guess at what on earth he's getting at.  
  
"I'm gay," Blaine says. "Mr. Hummel's son? I kind of think I'm almost in love with him already and I'm definitely too far gone to make anyone believe I like girls."  
  
She's smiling a little now but Blaine keeps going.  
  
"There are people who automatically hate a person who's gay, just on principle. Most days, I can't even remember my mom's voice. How am I supposed to know if she's super religious or open-minded or if she even cares at all? And even if she's okay with that, what if there's something else that's wrong with me?"  
  
He looks at Detective Warren helplessly.  
  
"What happens to me if they meet me only to find out that they hate who I am? What happens then?"  
  
"Oh Blaine," Detective Warren's face is still composed and sharp, but her voice sounds almost choked as she talks. "There are kids all over the world who have to come out to parents who aren't ready to accept their sexual orientation, but so often the only thing those parents need to come around is to realize how much they're missing by pushing their children out of their lives. Your mom and dad already know what that feels like – they've been missing you for years. Do you think they're going to turn you away because you grew up while you were gone? I think you need to give them a chance. Let them show you how a good parent acts."  
  
Blaine is quiet again, for a long, long time. He feels like he's back at the edge of the same pit he was standing on when he told Kurt to leave McKinley, only this time he's not letting go of a handhold and trying to find a new way to keep his balance. This time he's going to walk right over the side.  
  
He doesn't know if he's brave enough to tell her what she wants to know, but then he lets himself think about camping trips with his dad, and how his mom would always insist on giving him a hug whenever he was leaving the house.   
  
He takes a deep breath.  
  
"Anderson. It's Blaine Anderson."  
  
And he jumps.


	6. Epilogue

Detective Warren thanks Blaine for the information and pulls a piece of paper from one of the files as she gets up to leave and talk with one of the other officers. She doesn't notice when the pictures slide out of the manila folder . Blaine picks them up once she's closed the door behind her.  
  
There's an old photo of him, probably a school portrait, smiling hugely for the camera. He's missing a front tooth which gives him a lopsided, slightly comical appearance. There's also a police sketch of a man who looks somewhat like Tom, but not astonishingly so. If Blaine didn't know who he was looking for he would probably walk past him on the street and not think twice about it.   
  
Then there are a series of enlarged, low-quality, grainy stills that seem to have been taken from a security camera. One shows Blaine, clearly annoyed and facing off with a man turned away from the camera, who is squatting down to point a finger at Blaine in some sort of reprimand. His heart jumps a little when he realizes the man must be his father. In the next still, someone who could be Tom is walking alone. The final picture is of Tom again, this time walking in the opposite direction, holding one of Blaine's hands while in the other Blaine clutches that stupid stuffed toy.  
  
Blaine flips back to the first still and looks a little closer at the entire scene. Sure enough there's Tom, standing almost out of frame and watching the confrontation with interest.  
  
"You shouldn't be looking at that until we have a chance to see what you can remember on your own," Warren says as she walks back into the room. Blaine lets her take the photos back as he wipes hard at his eyes.  
  
"I don't remember most of it," he says. "I know the elephant came from a claw machine and Tom helped me win it. I sort of remember asking Dad if I could get it, but everything else is a blank."  
  
He's silent a moment before he speaks again.  
  
"He always told me that my parents were his friends. He talked like he knew them, but he never did, did he? That picture of him watching us? I bet that was the first time he ever saw me."  
  
"Your parents' statement says they'd never seen him before," Detective Warren confirms. "My partner is on the phone with them right now. Apparently they've been calling the police station in Westerville daily since the story about Stevie first ran. They thought it sounded like the older boy could match your description. I guess they were right."  
  
Blaine is stunned.  
  
"They live in Westerville? Ohio?"   
  
He laughs a little and leans back against the pillows.   
  
"God," he says. "He found out I'd been driving to Westerville with friends. It's why we left Lima. He was so fucking mad at me. I couldn't figure out why."  
  
"Would you like to talk to them?" Detective Warren asks.  
  
Blaine shakes his head.  
  
"Not yet," he says. "I just want to get everything else out of the way first."  
  
"You mean the tests?"  
  
"Tests, interviews, whatever," Blaine says. "I just want all of it to be over."  
  
"We can wait until they get here if that will make it easier," Detective Warren suggests.  
  
"Why would it be any easier?" Blaine asks. "I'll just be telling embarrassing things to an even bigger group of strangers."  
  
"What about Mr. Hummel? He should be here any minute, and I'm sure we can arrange something."  
  
"No offense to Mr. Hummel, but that might be even worse. I like his son, I really don't want him hearing about my sexual history."  
  
"That's a valid point," says Warren, who is smiling again. Blaine really does like her. Some of the nurses and doctors have been looking at him like he's going to shatter if they blink at him funny, but Detective Warren treats him like a normal human being. If he makes a joke she doesn't look at him like he's going to pieces, she just smiles. So long as she thinks it's funny.  
  
"Okay Blaine, I'll get nurse in here to take your history, and they'll send someone in to draw blood and check for any other injuries."  
  
"Are they going to take more pictures?" Blaine asks.  
  
"Maybe," Detective Warren says, apologetically. "It depends on if there's any sort of damage that can be documented as evidence."  
  
If it was anyone else, Blaine would just nod and not say anything, but Detective Warren is looking at him expectantly and it's not like Blaine won't have to tell her about it sooner or later so he says,  
  
"How long does something like that last? I never look after Tom does anything. I don't like thinking about it, but a couple weeks ago – right after we left Ohio – he was really angry and it was pretty bad. Like, the roughest he's ever been. He always goes a little crazy when he thinks I'm going to leave him."  
  
"Does he now?" And now Blaine knows what Detective Warren looks like when she's pissed off. "Well, how sad for poor Tom."  
  
She takes a deep breath and Blaine can actually see her count to ten before she continues.  
  
"Tell you what," she says. "I know you're not wild about the photographer being in here, so Detective Carter or myself can be present for the exam and take any pictures that we need. Then we can talk about the past month or so with Brenner. We can't cover over eight years worth of criminal activity in one morning, so we'll leave it at that for now."  
  
Blaine nods, and then asks,  
  
"Was he still there when the police got to the house?"  
  
Detective Warren rolls he eyes, like she's decided Tom isn't worth her professionalism.  
  
"No," she says. "He got up to go to the bathroom and somehow sorted out the two of you were gone. They were getting ready to arrange a manhunt when a neighbour called to complain about the drunk guy trying to break in. Apparently he thought you were hiding there."  
  
"Sort of glad I didn't go with that option, then," Blaine says.  
  
"It wouldn't have mattered," Warren says. "One way or the other this wouldn't have gone on another day. You boys made sure of that."  
  
***  
  
Blaine's been talking to Detective Warren for almost two hours straight when someone knocks on the door and her partner pokes his head inside.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt," he says. "Blaine's parents just called. They said they'll be here in just a little over half an hour."  
  
Blaine thinks he might actually throw up. Detective Warren notices, because she's kind of freaky and can tell every time Blaine is upset about something, no matter how well he tries to hide it.  
  
"Blaine," she says softly. "It's going to be okay. They love you."  
  
"I know," Blaine says, ignoring the voice inside his head that is screaming,  _But they don't even know me._  
  
"You look a little green," she says, back to her matter-of-fact tone, like she can tell Blaine likes that better. "Do you need a glass of water? Maybe a break for some fresh air? The doctor said you were fine to walk around a bit if you were careful. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem if you wanted to step out of the room for a minute."  
  
Blaine nods, gratefully. The hospital room is tiny and claustrophobic, and Blaine feels weighed down by the bad memories and sterile air. Thankfully they've let Blaine wear scrubs instead of one of those awful gowns, so he doesn't feel like a complete moron when he carefully steps out of the room, pulling his IV along with him.  
  
He's a little surprised to see Burt Hummel waiting outside the door, talking to one of the officers that are  _still_  crawling around on the floor. He sort of thought when no one would let him see Blaine right away, he'd go find a place to sleep or something.  
  
As soon as Burt sees him he cuts short his conversation and hurries over.  
  
"God, am I ever glad to see you again," he says, and Blaine almost laughs, because that's the last thing he ever thought he'd hear Kurt's father saying to him.  
  
Burt puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and squeezes it gently.  
  
"Thanks for coming," Blaine says. "I'm sorry for bothering you. They told my parents and they're on their way now. I wouldn't have asked you to come all this way if I'd known they were going to do that."  
  
"Don't apologise," Burt says bluntly. "It's a good thing, Blaine. You've got your family back."  
  
Blaine smiles at him, weakly. He's not going to tell Burt what he's thinking right now, because he's starting to sound like a broken record, and everyone is just waving off what he says anyhow. He wonders if anyone will even believe him if he tells them that things aren't working and he can't fit in with the Andersons anymore.  
  
"Don't look so worried, either," Burt says, cutting into his thoughts. "I'm not pretending things are going to be easy for you. No one actually believes that. But in all honesty? After what you did last night, I think the general opinion is that you can  _make_  things work for you. From what the Evanses have been telling me you might be able to turn water into wine, too. You'll sort things out, and if you ever feel like you can't? Our door is always open, Blaine. Just because you have a home again doesn't mean you can't come over if you need a break."  
  
"Thank you," Blaine says. It doesn't make him feel better exactly, but it's nice knowing that the Hummels aren't going to pat him on the head and send him off without another thought, too. He hears someone calling his name and cringes a little, trying to fight back the instinct to run and make a fool of himself before he realizes that his parents can't be here already and even more to the point, that the voice belongs to someone he knows.  
  
Blaine turns around and sees Sam Evans striding quickly towards him. His clothes are wrinkled, he doesn't look like he's shaved or combed his hair for a while, and his eyes are watery and red-rimmed. Blaine glances around nervously, wondering where Detective Warren has gone. He knows that whatever Sam wants to do to him, he probably deserves it. After all, it's his fault things went as far as they did. Stevie never would have been taken if he'd just grown a brain and told somebody why he was in trouble. Still, he's not looking forward to getting punched in the face and would like to avoid it if he can.  
  
The absolute last thing he expects is to suddenly be wrapped up in the biggest bear hug he's received since, well, possibly ever as Burt is forced to make a grab for his precariously teetering IV, but that's what is happening. Sam is hugging him so hard Blaine can't even move his arms, leaning down slightly and burying his face in Blaine's shoulder. It sort of hurts, but Blaine doesn't know what to do about it. He was expecting a little pain obviously, but not because Sam Evans is an enthusiastic hugger. He's muttering something Blaine can't make out.  
  
"Sam?" He asks. "Are you okay?"  
  
He's aware it's about the stupidest question he could possibly be asking at the moment, but he doesn't know what else he should be doing. Sam sniffles and pulls back, just a little, and now Blaine can make out the words:  
  
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..." repeated like a mantra, like he isn't planning on stopping anytime soon.  
  
"Hey," Blaine says, squirming a little until he finally frees a hand and manages to pat Sam awkwardly on the shoulder. "He's a really strong little kid. He'll be fine."  
  
He feels Sam nodding as he says, "I know. But he wouldn't have been if you hadn't been there. I haven't...they won't let me...I haven't been in the room with them while he's been talking, but Mom and Dad have come out a couple times and told me some of what he's been saying."  
  
Sam sniffs again and doesn't say anything for a moment, but Blaine can feel his shoulder getting wet. It's not the greatest feeling. Maybe he should apologise to Rachel for how he latched onto her at Anthony's party. He could send a card. She seems like the sort of person who'd love to get an "I'm Sorry I Created An Awkward Social Situation" card from Hallmark.  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine says again, needing to fill the silence. "I never wanted that to happen to him."  
  
Sam lets out a little huff of air that in any other circumstance might be a laugh.  
  
"Oh my god, shut up," he says. "Why are you apologising? You saved my brother's life, Blaine. You don't need to be sorry for anything."  
  
 _But I am_ , Blaine thinks. He doesn't say anything though, and opts for patting Sam on the shoulder again. Somebody behind them clears their throat.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt," Detective Warren says and sure, now she shows up. "Blaine? The doctor didn't want you overdoing it after the night you've had. I think we should get you back to your room. Mr. Evans?"  
  
Blaine can just see her over Sam's shoulder. She's smiling just a little bit, but it's the kind of smile girls get when they watch baby pandas sneeze on the internet.  
  
"I'm going to need you to let go of Mr. Anderson now, okay?" she says.  
  
Blaine's stomach flutters when he hears his old name being said out loud like that, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it because Sam is pulling back and swearing a little as he uses one of his sleeves to wipe at his face and the other to wipe at Blaine's shirt, saying,  
  
"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I totally just used your shirt as a Kleenex and that is the last thing you need right now. You're like Batman. You're a hero who should have, like, a statue or something. You don't deserve my snot all over you."  
  
"It's fine," Blaine says, now smiling too. "Don't worry about it."  
  
He doesn't really know Sam that well at all, but he thinks he gets why Stevie loves him so much. He's about the nicest, warmest person Blaine has ever met. If a teddy bear ever came to life, Blaine thinks it would be a lot like Sam.  
  
He turns to go, but Burt, who has been standing around watching instead of helping, says, "Wait!" like he's just remembered something.  
  
"Kurt's been going a little nuts with the text messages this morning," he's saying, reaching over to a desk to grab a pen and piece of scrap paper. "He wanted to make sure I had you call him as soon as I saw you."  
  
He scribbles something on the paper before handing it to Blaine. Blaine takes the piece of scrap paper cautiously, trying to will his hand to stop trembling as he stares at the familiar number.  
  
"I heard someone say that your parents are in Westerville," Sam is saying. "Kurt's there, too. Maybe you should talk to him – a familiar face might be nice if you're freaking out about having to get to know your whole family again."  
  
"How did you know I was worried about that?" Blaine asks.  
  
Sam smirks,  
  
"Mom says Stevie has asked if you can move in with us at least six times since we got here. He's saying you'll get lonely at home and if your parents are sad about it, too bad, but maybe they can take you on weekends like the kids in his class from split families."  
  
"Okay, lesson learned," Blaine says. "Never confide in an 8-year-old."  
  
"Yeah," Sam says. "I've been there. At least it's not as bad as Stacy. She tells your secrets  _and_  braids your hair."  
  
***  
  
Once Blaine is sitting on his bed again, he looks carefully at Detective Warren.  
  
"He said he wanted me to call right away," Blaine says, uncertainly.  
  
"Maybe you should do that," she says, just a little too innocently to be believable. At this point Blaine is starting to wonder why he thought she was so professional and detached. He'd say she was being mean, but it's so nice to be treated like this is only about calling a boy he likes that he just lets himself enjoy the moment. He looks at her expectantly.  
  
She gives him a look before heading to the door.  
  
"I can take a hint," she says. "Let me know if you need anything."  
  
He stares at the phone beside the bed like it's going to bite him for a few more minutes, then he pulls the receiver off the cradle and starts dialling before he can talk himself out of it. It barely has time to ring before Kurt is picking up.  
  
"Blaine?"  
  
"Why aren't you in class?" Blaine asks, looking at the clock. "I thought I would be leaving you a message or something."  
  
"I skipped," Kurt says impatiently. "Like I'd be any good in class today. Blaine, are you okay?"  
  
"The doctor said I fractured my wrist but they don't think they need to reset anything," he offers.  
  
"Fine," Kurt says. "But seriously. You're okay?"  
  
"I don't think I get the question," Blaine says.  
  
"Blaine, a strange man stole you from your family and ran away with you," Kurt says. "He did terrible things to you and I want to know if you're alright."  
  
"All of that happened a long time ago, Kurt," Blaine says gently. "I know it's all new to you, but I've sort of had a long time to adapt."  
  
Kurt makes a semi-despairing noise before saying,  
  
"Why didn't you tell me he'd kidnapped you?"  
  
"I never told anyone," Blaine says. "And I never thought about it like that, anyhow. He told me they didn't want me anymore. I don't know, I was stupid I guess, but he made it all sound so reasonable. I never thought anyone would help me."  
  
"I would have helped you," Kurt insists. "You had to have known I would have helped you."  
  
"You did help," Blaine says. "You guys gave me a home when you knew I needed one."  
  
"We never should have let you go back to him," Kurt says. He sounds angry with himself.  
  
"I didn't exactly tell you the truth about what was happening," Blaine says. "You didn't know the whole story."  
  
"We knew enough of it," Kurt says, determined to feel bad about this. "You were drunk out of your mind when you told me what you did. I should have known there was more to it than you were saying. No one ever makes sense when they're that drunk. That time I threw up at school I mistook Mrs. Pillsbury for a cartoon character."  
  
"Okay that's it," Blaine says. "I think I'm a patient person. I'm okay with people taking their time and doing things at their own pace, but Kurt? If you don't tell me that story right now, I swear I will hang up and never talk to you again."  
  
Just like that the heavy mood lifts. Kurt placates Blaine and tells the story about April Rhodes and her vintage gay porn, and even after the conversation returns to where Blaine will live now, and how far his home might be from Dalton, it's hard to feel too upset or anxious when somewhere in the back of his head there's now an image of Kurt sipping on cheap wine and reading about the chiselled pecs of Muscle Beach in the 1960s.  
  
"Really it's not too bad at all," Kurt says. "Westerville is so close to Lima, even if I wasn't going to Dalton, meeting up for dinner and a movie would be completely doable."  
  
Kurt starts to trail off for the last part of the sentence, like he's just realized what he's saying and is desperately trying to apply the brakes.  
  
"Oh God," he says, sounding more embarrassed than Blaine has ever heard him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking. Look, just forget that last part, okay? I don't expect you to drop everything and start dating me or anything stupid like that while you've got so much going on in your life, I promise. There's no pressure on you, I don't care if you never even want it to go anywhere. It's not like we had a chance to talk about this before you left, so don't think – "  
  
"Where's a good place to go to dinner in Westerville?" Blaine says, cutting off Kurt's panicky rambling. There's a pause before Kurt says,  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Why not?" Blaine asks. "You make me happy, Kurt. I'm not saying...it's going to be weird. I know that. Nothing about my life makes sense right now, and I know I'm a total fuckup, but if you really still want to do this, I'm in."  
  
"Don't talk about yourself like that," Kurt says. "Also? You have no idea how much I still want to do this. If anything you've proven you're even  _more_  my type than I thought you were and I need to stop talking about this right now or I'll do something mortifying like say how you've demonstrated you're going to be an excellent father for our children."  
  
Blaine laughs and Kurt sighs a little.  
  
"Yeah," he says. "That was exactly the sort of thing I didn't want slipping out."  
  
"It could have been worse," Blaine says. "You could have said you wanted to actively have my babies."  
  
Kurt is spluttering a defence and doing a pretty bad job of it when there's a knock on the door. Detective Warren pokes her head inside and Blaine feels like someone has taken all the oxygen out of the room. Has it been half an hour already?  
  
"I have to go," He mutters into the phone.  
  
"Okay," Kurt says, his voice suddenly serious. "Don't worry Blaine. Everything will be fine. You have my number now, call me when you need to, alright?"  
  
"Okay," Blaine says faintly. He hangs up the phone before he remembers to say goodbye. He doesn't want to do this.  
  
"They're outside right now," Detective Warren says, stepping into the room. "Do you need a minute?"  
  
"No," Blaine says quickly. "They've been waiting a long time to see me."  
  
Detective Warren doesn't look convinced.  
  
"So they probably won't notice a few extra minutes," she says. "Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
Blaine runs his good hand through his hair. If he thought he was shaking when he got Kurt's number he must have been crazy. He's trembling now like he's been out in the snow for two hours without a coat. Warren crosses over to him and puts her hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Hey, come on. Look at me," she says, and her voice is little more than a murmur. She's not giving an order so much as she's tossing him a life preserver. His looks at her a little desperately, his breath shaky and his vision blurring.  
  
"Take a breath," she says. "Not too deep, let's give your ribs a break, but just...breath, okay? Focus on that. In and Out. Breathing's good."  
  
For the next several minutes Blaine tries to do what she's asking, but he isn't having much luck. It's ridiculous because he knows he's safer now than he has been in years, but he can't remember the last time he's felt this scared.  
  
"I don't know who they are," he finally says to Detective Warren. "You could literally send in anyone from that hallway saying they're my parents and I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference."  
  
"You remember better than you think you do," she promises. "Don't worry if it doesn't all come back to you at once. You _will_  remember more the longer you're with them."  
  
"What if they're angry that I've forgotten so much?" he asks.  
  
"If they're angry they aren't angry at you," Detective Warren says. "They're angry at the person who made you forget. You can do this, Blaine. Are you ready?"  
  
"No," says Blaine. "But I'm never going to be. Just send them in?"  
  
"Okay," Detective Warren says. She smoothes her hands over the fabric on his shoulders a couple times and then goes out into the hallway again. Time seems to stop, and the sounds of the hospital seem dull and undefined in Blaine's ears. He stares straight ahead. All he can see is the door in front of him. He wonders if this is taking as long as it feels like it's taking, but then Detective Warren is pushing the door open again and Blaine can only think that this is happening too fast.  
  
A man and woman come into the room. They look tired and rundown, but not the sort of tired Blaine is right now, where you haven't slept very well for a night, or even a few weeks. There are lines in the man's face, and the woman's hair is going gray. They don't look like Burt or Carole either, who both have tired traces of sadness hiding at the corners of their features.   
  
These aren't the faces of people who have lost someone they love to death; they're the faces of people who have lost a loved one but were never given the luxury of closure. The woman looks like she's going to fall over, and there are tears silently running down her face. She's looking at Blaine like she wants to say something – do something – but she's frozen in the moment, staring at the tatters of an entire childhood has been stolen from her every bit as much as it's been stolen from Blaine. He just stares back, as silent and frozen as she is.  
  
"Blaine?" the man finally says, tentatively, and it makes Blaine jump a little, because that's the first thing he's heard his dad say in eight years but nothing about the voice is familiar to him. His father looks positively haggard and in a shock of clarity, Blaine realizes he looks as scared as Blaine feels. Blaine wonders what his father has to be scared about, but then his dad is shaking his head a little saying,  
  
"I'm so sorry, Blaine. I'm so, so sorry."  
  
"What did you do?" Blaine asks, nervously.  
  
The man laughs a little in disbelief and wipes his eyes.  
  
"I always promised myself I'd never start like this," he says, almost to himself. "But if I'd kept a closer eye on you that day – "  
  
"Stop it," his mom whispers, and Blaine doesn't remember her voice, either. "We're not doing that right now."  
  
She looks at Blaine and takes a halting step towards him.  
  
"Hi, baby," she says, reaching out a hand towards him, slowly like Blaine will bolt or disappear if she gets too close, an Blaine wonders if she dreamt about him fading away like he dreamt about her.  
  
"Hi," he says, uncertainly, and his mother lets out a sob and has suddenly crossed the room too quickly for him to really register, already pulling him into her arms. Blaine can still recognize the sound of her crying and it feels like someone has dumped ice water onto him. This is what he's wanted more than anything else in the entire eight years he's been away. He's wanted it more than he wanted Kurt to like him back, more than he wanted someone to know his secrets, even more than he wanted to get away from Tom. But now that it's here he's just standing stiffly in her embrace, not sure how he should respond or feel. He feels like he's so close to what he always wanted but now that he has it he doesn't know what to do with it.  
  
Slowly he moves to lean against her a little more and put his good arm around her, not because he feels the need to do so, but because when someone hugs you, you're supposed to hug them back. His brain registers just a hint of a smell. He doesn't know what it is – it could be the laundry detergent or fabric sheets that they use, but Blaine remembers that, too. Suddenly the enormity of what is happening hits him like a wave. His mother is here again, holding him, and she doesn't hate him, and his father is just as scared that he let Blaine down as Blaine has been scared of his dad not wanting him.  
  
"Mom?" he says and he wants to tell her that he's sorry for making her worry, that he's glad to see her again, and that he loves her, but "Mom" is all that he can get out before he's unable to speak, and he doesn't know if it's because he's crying too hard or if he's just so relieved. The longer he looks at them the clearer their faces get in his memories and the more he realizes that maybe he was never as lost as he thought he was.  
  
And then his dad is there too, hugging both of them, and Blaine wishes his one arm wasn't in a cast because he can only clutch at his sleeve and it's not good enough, because Blaine has finally found something to hold onto that isn't a dream or wishful thinking. He hasn't left the hospital yet and he already feels like he's home.


End file.
